V  T 


p. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  George  Papashvily 


A  NOBLE  WOMAN. 


BY 


MRS.  km  S.  STEPHENS. 

AUTHOR    OF    "PALACES     AND    PRISONS,"      "FASHION    AND    FAMINE, 

"MARRIED    IN   HASTE,"    "MABEL'S   MISTAKE,"    "DOUBLY    FALSE," 

"WIVES   AND  WIDOWS,"    "MARY    DERWENT,"    "THE  HEIRESS," 

"THE       REJECTED      WIFE,"      "THE     SOLDIER'S     ORPHANS," 

"THE    OLD     HOMESTEAD,"    "RUBY     GRAY'S     STRATEGY," 

"THE    CURSE     OF     GOLD,"     "THE  WIFE'S     SECRET," 

"THE  GOLD    BRICK,"  "SILENT   STRUGGLES,"   ETC. 


"  A  Noble  Woman,"  is  the  name  of  the  new  novel  written  by  Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens.' 
Its  pages  are  replete  with  incidents  of  absorbing  interest,  and  her  admirers  will 
read  it  with  avidity,  and  with  a  zest  which  would  indicate  that  the  freshness 
and  interest  of  each  of  her  new  novels  are  still  as  potent  as  were  her  earliest  pro 
ductions.  The  leading  characters  are  carried  through  a  series  of  exciting  adven 
tures,  all  of  which  are  narrated  and  drawn  out  with  such  ingenuity  that  the  reader's 
attention,  is  kept  on  a  tension  of  interest  from  the  opening  page  to  the  close 
of  the  volume.  This  is  the  great  secret  of  Mrs.  Stephens'  success — her  readers 
cannot  get  out  of  her  influence.  She  does  not  fatigue  them  with  the  subtleties 
of  metaphysics  or  philosophy.  She  gives  you  a  thrilling  story,  pure  and  pimple, 
sensational  if  you  please,  and  she  leaves  the  whole  affair  in  the  hands  of  her  readers, 
feeling  quite  secure  of  a  favorable  verdict  on  every  new  emanation  from  her  pen. 
"  A  Noble  Woman"  will  prove  to  be  the  most  popular  novel  that  she  has  ever  written. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.    B.    PETERSON    &   BROTHERS; 

306     CHESTNUT      STREET. 


; Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

T.  B.   PETERSON   &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


MRS.   ANN    S.   STEPHENS'  WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  volume,  12mo. 
A  NOBLE  WOMAN. 

PALACES  AND  PRISONS. 

MARRIED  IN  HASTE. 

RUBY  GRATS  STRATEGY. 

THE  CURSE  OF  GOLD. 

WIVES  AND  WIDOWS;  OR,    THE  BROKEN  LIFE. 
THE  REJECTED  WIFE. 

THE  GOLD  BRICK 

THE  HEIRESS. 

FASHION  AND  FAMINE. 

THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 

SILENT  STRUGGLES. 

MARY  DERWENT. 

THE  WIFE'S  SECRET. 

THE  SOLDIERS  ORPHANS. 

MABEL'S  MISTAKE. 

DOUBLY  FALSE. 

Price  of  each,  01.75  in  Cloth ;  or  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 


Above  books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers.     Copies  of  any  or 
all  of  the  above  books  will  be  sent  to  any  one,  to  any  place,  post 
age  pre-paid,  on  receipt  of  their  price  by  the  Publishers, 
T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

306  CHESTNUT  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


GIFT 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  rage. 

I.— A    PROPOSAL 23 

II.— TOM  THE  GROOMSMAN 29 

III. — A  FRIGHT  AND  A  RESCUE 36 

IV. — HIGH  FESTIVAL  AT  PINEY  COVE 42 

V. — A  BALL  IN  THE  BASEMENT 52 

VI.— THE  WEDDING 60 

VII.— THE  FIRST  CLOUD 67 

viii.— THE  BRIDE'S  WELCOME  HOME 71 

IX.— COUSIN  TOM  VISITS  PINEY  COVE 78 

X.— SHADOWS    OF   A   SEPARATION 88 

XL — THE  BALL 92 

XII. — TOM    MAKES   A    DECLARATION 97 

XIII.— WHO   COULD  IT  HAVE  BEEN  ? 104 

xiv. — THE  HUSBAND'S  LAST  CHARGE 109 

xv.— MRS.  HARRINGTON'S  FRIENDS 113 

XVI.— THE  WIDOW'S    FLIRTATION 122 

XVII. — STARTING  FOR  THE  PIC-NIC 128 

XVIIL— FACE    TO   FACE 133 

XIX.— LETTERS 140 

XX.— AN  INTERVIEW  IN  THE  WOODS 145 

XXI.— FIRE  AND  WATER .""150 

(19) 


038 


20  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Pago 

XXII. — AMONG  THE    BREAKERS 156 

XXIII.— DEAD  AND  GONE 164 

XXIV.— HOME    IN  A  STORM 169 

XXV. — THE    SUNSHINE  OF  THE  HOUSE 179 

XXVI. — SUNSHINE   AND   STORMS 183 

XXVII. — COURTSHIP   IN  THE    KITCHEN 188 

XXVIII.— THE   DEAD   SECRET 191 

xxix. — TOM  FULLER'S  LETTER 194 

XXX. — THE  WIDOW'S  FASCINATIONS 199 

XXXI. — THE    HEIR  COMES    HOME 203 

XXXII. — THE    GAUNTLET  BRACELETS 206 

XXXIII. — SEARCHING  FOR  THE   BRACELET 212 

XXXIV.— BELOW    STAIRS 220 

XXXV. — MRS.   MELLEN  AND   HER    COUSIN 228 

XXXVI.— LURED    INTO    DANGER 236 

XXXVII.— THE  AFTER    STRUGGLE 243 

XXXVIII.— A  HALF    UNDERSTANDING 248 

XXXIX.— TRIFLES   LIGHT  AS   AIR 259 

XL. — TWO   FACES  IN  THE    GLASS 268 

XLI. — SECRECY  IMPOSED   ON  TOM  FULLER 272 

XLII.— THE   RIDE   AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES 275 

XLIII.— KINDLY  ANXIETIES 281 

XLIV.— ALMOST    DEFIANCE 285 

XL V.— THE    TIGER   IN  HIS    DEN 289 

XL vi. — THE  PAWNBROKER'S  SHOP 298 

XLVIL— TEASING    CONTINUALLY 303 

XLVIIL— THE    PET    MESSENGER 308 

XLIX.— ELSIE   FINDS  THE    BRACELET 312 

L. — IN  THE    TEMPEST 318 

LI. — THE    OLD   CEDAR    TREE 321 


CONTENTS. 


21 


Chapter  Pa£e 

1,11.  —  WOODMAN,  SPAKE  THAT  TREE  ..................  327 

LIII.  —  CLORINDA'S  GHOST  STOBY  ......................  332 

LIV.  —  THE   SABLE  FORTUNE  HUNTER  ..................  337 

LV.—IN   THE   NET  ....................................  342 

LVI.  —  THE    SECRET   TELEGRAM  ........................  352 

LVII.  —  KITCHEN  GOSSIP  ................................  356 

I/VIII.  —  THE   INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM  ..................  364 

LIX.—  FORCED    HOSPITALITY  ..........................  369 

LX.—  WAITING   FOR  THE    HOUR  .......................  373 

LXI.  —  THE    MIDNIGHT    SEARCH  ........................  381 

LXII.—  UNDER    THE    CEDAR  ............................  385 

LXIII.—  FACE  TO   FACE  ..................................  389 

LXIV.—  BURIED    OUT    OF   SIGHT  .........................  395 

LXV.—  THE   HUSBAND   RELENTS  ........................  400 

LXVI.—  GONE  ...........................................  402 

LXVII.  —  UTTER  LONELINESS  .............................  410 

LXVIII.  —  PLANS  AND  LETTERS  ...........................  414 

LXIX.  —  ELSIE  PROMISES   TO   BE   FAITHLESS  .............  420 

LXX.—  ALMOST  A  PROPOSAL  ...........................  424 

LXXI.  —  FUTILE  PLEADINGS  ............................  429 

LXXII.  —  TOM  FULLER  RETURNS  .........................  434 

LXXIII.—  A  FEAST  AND  A  LOVE  FEAST  ..................  439 

LXXIV.—  THAT  MONEY  IN  THE  BANK  ....................  444 

LXXV.—  UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS  ............  .  .....  448 

LXXV1.  —  THE  CONFESSION  ...............................  454 

LXXVIL—  SEARCHING  .....................................  460 

LXXVIIL—  IN  BENSON'S  TAVERN  ..........................  466 

LXXIX.—  RECONCILIATIONS  ..............................  471 

LXXX.—  TOM  ACCEPTS  THE  SITUATION..  ..  473 


A    NOBLE    WOMAN, 


CHAPTER   I. 

A     PROPOSAL. 

SHE  was  eighteen  years  old  and  would  graduate  in  a  few- 
weeks,  yet  Elsie  looked  like  a  child,  lying  there  in  that  lit 
tle  white  bed,  with  her  golden  curls  scattered  on  the  pillow 
and  the  soft  whiteness  of  her  neck  and  hands  shaded  by 
the  delicate  Valenciennes  with  which  her  night  robe  was 
profusely  decorated.  A  quantity  of  hot  house  flowers  lay 
scattered  on  the  counterpane,  where  the  girl  had  flung 
them,  one  by  one,  from  a  bouquet  she  was  still  tearing  to 
pieces.  A  frown  was  on  her  pretty  forehead,  and  her  large 
violet  eyes  shone  feverishly.  It  was  seldom  anything  half  so 
lovely  appeared  in  the  confined  sleeping  rooms  of  that 
highly  fashionable  boarding  school.  Indeed,  since  its  foun 
dation  it  is  doubtful  if  a  creature  half  so  beautiful  as  Elsie 
Mellen  had  ever  slept  within  its  walls. 

Just  as  the  girl  had  littered  the  whole  bed  with  flowers, 
which  she  broke  and  crushed  as  a  child  breaks  the  toys  he 
is  weary  of,  the  door  of  the  room  opened,  and  a  young  lady 
entered,  with  a  plate  of  hot-house  grapes  in  her  hand.  She 
was  older  than  the  sick  girl  by  two  or  three  years,  and  in 
all  respects  a  grave  and  most  womanly  contrast.  Calm, 

(23) 


24  A      PROPOSAL. 

gracious  and  dignified,  she  came  forward  with  an  air  of  pro 
tection  and  sat  down  by  the  bed,  holding  out  her  grapes. 

"  See  what  your  brother  has  sent  you." 

The  girl  started  up  and  flung  back  the  hair  from  her  face. 

"From  Piney  Bend,"  she  exclaimed,  lifting  one  of  the 
purple  clusters  in  her  hand,  and  crowding  two  or  three  of 
the  grapes  into  her  mouth  at  once,  with  the  delicious  greed 
of  a  naughty  child.  "  Oh,  how  cool  and  nice.  Dear  old 
Grant,  I  wonder  when  he  is  coming." 

"  Sometime  to-day,  the  messenger  said,"  answered  the 
young  lady,  and  a  soft  peach-like  bloom  swept  over  her 
face  as  she  spoke. 

Elsie  was  looking  at  her  friend 5  and  a  quick,  mischievous 
light  came  into  her  own  face. 

"  Bessie,"  she  murmured,  in  a  voice  mellowed  and 
muffled  by  the  grapes  in  her  mouth.  "Don't  tell  me 
anything  —  only  I  think  —  I  think  —  oh!  wouldn't  it  be 
fun  ? — there,  there,  how  you  are  blushing." 

"  Blushing,  how  foolish  !  But  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well 
enough  even  to  talk  nonsense." 

"Nonsense!  look  here,  Miss  Prim:  if  you're  not  in 
love  with  my  brother  Grantley  Melleu,  I  never  was  in 
love  with  anybody  in  my  life." 

"  Elsie ! " 

"  There,  there  !  I  shan't  believe  a  word  you  say — more 
than  that,  I  believe  he's  in  love  with  you." 

No  blushes  burned  that  noble  face  now,  for  it  grew  white 
with  a  great  surprise,  and  for  a  moment  Elizabeth  Fuller's 
heart  ceased  to  beat. 

"Could  this  be  true!  These  light,  careless  words  from  a 
young  girl  seemed  to  shake  the  foundation  of  her  life. 
Did  she  love  the  man,  who  for  three  weeks  had  been  a 
daily  visitor  in  that  sick  room,  whose  voice  had  been  music 
to  her,  whose  eyes  had  been  so  often  lifted  to  hers  in  ten 
der  gratitude.  Could  her  heart  have  proved  so  cruelly 


A      PROPOSAL.  25 

rebellious  ?  Then  the  other  impossible  things  the  girl  had 
hinted  at.  Elsie  had  not  meant  it  for  cruelty,  but  still  it  was 
very  cruel,  to  startle  her  with  glimpses  of  a  heaven  she 
never  must  enter.  What  was  she  but  a  poor  orphan  girl, 
teaching  in  that  school  in  order  to  pay  for  the  tuition  which 
had  refined  and  educated  her  into  the  noble  woman  she 
unconsciously  was.  Of  course  Mr.  Mellen  was  grateful  for 
the  care  she  had  taken  of  his  beautiful  sister,  and  that 
was  all.  Elsie  was  almost  well  now,  and  would  leave  the 
school  that  term.  After  that  there  was  little  chance  that 
she  would  ever  see  Grantley  Mellen  again. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  questioned 
Elsie,  still  busy  with  her  grapes.  "  Just  tell  me  if  we  are 
to  be  sisters, — and  I'm  set  on  it — you  shall  know  all  my 
secrets ;  it'll  be  so  nice  to  have  some  one  that  won't  tell, — 
and  I'll  know  yours.  To  begin,  dear  old  Bessie  :  somebody 
sent  me  these  flowers,  and  I  hate  'em.  It's  my  way.  So 
many  at  once,  it  stifles  me.  I  wish  he  could  see  'em  now ; 
wouldn't  he  just  long  to  box  my  ears — there,  that's  my 
first  secret." 

"  But  who  is  the  man,  Elsie  ?  "  enquired  Miss  Fuller, 
really  disturbed  by  this  first  confidence  ;  for  the  girl  was 
her  room-mate,  and  had  been  placed  particularly  under 
her  care. 

"  Oh,  that's  my  second  secret — I'll  tell  you  that  when 
you're  Grant's  wife.  You  haven't  told  me  about  your  own 
adorer  yet." 

"  How  could  I  ?  One  does  not  talk  of  lovers  till  they 
come." 

"  Oh  Bessie  Fuller ;  what  a  fraud  you  are  !  Just  as  if  he 
hadn't  been  under  this  very  window  again  and  again  :  just 
as  if  the  flowers  that  get  into  our  room,  no  one  can  guess 
how,  did  not  come  from  him.  Why,  half  the  girls  in  school 
have  seen  him  prowling  round  here  like  a  great,  handsome, 
splendid  tiger  ! " 


26  APROPOSAL. 

"What  are  you  talking  of,  Elsie  ?" 

"  No  matter  ;  I  shan't  tell  Grant,  he  must  think  him 
self  first  and  foremost  —  what  a  lovely  sister-in-law  you 
will  make." 

"  Elsie,  my  dear  girl " 

"  Don't  interrupt  me — don't  say  you  wouldn't  have  him : 
that  you  like  the  other  fellow  better,  and  all  that.  I  tell 
3'oti  Grant  is  a  prince,  and  you  shall  be  his  princess.  He's 
awful  rich,  too  ;  our  horrid  old  uncle  left  him  everything. 
I  haven't  got  the  value  of  a  hair  bracelet  all  my  own  — 
that's  another  secret.  The  girls  all  think  we  share  and 
share  alike,  and  I  want  them  to  keep  up  the  idea ;  but  you 
are  different.  Don't  you  see  it  would  be  horrid  hard  for  me 
if  my  brother  should  marry  some  close,  stingy  thing,  that 
might  even  grudge  me  a  home  at  Piney  Bend ;  but  with 
you — oh  Bessie  !  Promise  me  that  you  will  marry  him." 

Here  Elsie  flung  down  the  stem  of  her  grapes,  and 
reaching  out  her  arms,  threw  them  lovingly  around  Eliza 
beth's  neck. 

"  Promise  me-,  promise  me  !  " 

"  You  foolish  darling  !  Lie  down  and  be  quiet,  or  I  shall 
think  you  light-headed  again." 

"  But  you  shall,  I  declare  you  shall ! — Hush !  there  is 
some  one  at  the  door.  Come  in  !  " 

A  servant  opened  the  door  and  informed  the  young  ladies 
that  Mr.  Mellen  was  in  the  parlor. 

"  Tell  him  to  come  up,"  said  Elsie. 

The  servant  went  out,  and  Elsie  sat  up  among  her  pil 
lows,  twisting  that  splendid  mass  of  hair  around  her  head. 
As  she  stooped  forward,  her  eyes  fell  on  the  litter  of  broken 
flowers,  and  she  called  out  eagerly, 

"  Oh  Bessie,  do  sweep  them  up ;  throw  them  out  of  the 
window,  under  the  bed,  anywhere,  so  that  he  does  not  know 
about  them.  There  would  be  no  end  to  his  questions,  if  he 
saw  so  much  as  a  broken  rose  bud." 


A      PROPOSAL.  27 

Elizabeth  swept  up  the  scattered  flowers  with  her  hands 
and  cast  them  through  the  open  window,  scarcely  heeding 
what  the  girl  said  about  them,  in  the  agitation  of  the  mo 
ment.  As  she  turned  from  the  open  sash,  Grantley  Mellen 
came  into  the  room.  He  was  indeed  a  grand  and  noble 
looking  man,  with  dignity  in  his  manner,  and  character  in 
his  face ;  evidently  possessed  of  strong  but  subdued  pas 
sions,  and  a  power  of  concentration-  that  might  engender 
prejudices  difficult  to  overcome.  That  he  was  upright  and 
honorable,  you  saw  at  a  glance.  When  he  sat  down  by 
that  fair  young  creature,  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  the 
tenderness  in  his  voice  and  eyes  thrilled  Elizabeth  to  the 
heart.  Elsie  it  simply  gratified. 

"  Why  Bessie,"  she  said,  with  threatening  mischief  in 
her  eyes,  "  you  haven't  spoken  to  Grant  yet." 

"Because  he  was  occupied  with  you,"  answered  Eliza 
beth  with  grave  dignity,  that  kept  down  the  rebellious 
spirit  in  Elsie's  eyes.  "Now  I  will  shake  hands  with  Mr. 
Mellen  and  go  down  to  my  class." 

With  a  gentle,  but  not  altogether  unembarrassed  greet 
ing,  the  young  lady  went  out  of  the  room,  leaving  the 
brother  and  sister  together. 

Two  days  after  this  scene  in  Elsie's  chamber,  Elizabeth 
Puller  stood  in  one  of  the  parlors  of  the  establishment  with 
her  hand  locked  in  that  of  Grantley  Mellen  ;  startled,  trem 
bling,  almost  terrified  by  the  great  happiness  that  had 
fallen  upon  her.  He  had  asked  her  tenderly,  earnestly,  and 
with  a  thrill  of  passion  in  his  voice,  to  become  his  wife. 

The  girl  had  not  answered  him  :  she  literally  could  not 
speak  ;  her  large  gray  eyes  were  lifted  to  his,  wild  with 
astonishment  one  moment,  soft  with  exquisite  love  light  the 
next. 

"  Will  you  not  speak  to  me  ?  " 

She  attempted  to  answer  him,  but  smiles  rather  than 
words  parted  her  lips ;  and  tears,  soft  as  dew,  flooded  the 


28  A      PROPOSAL. 

joy  in  her  eyes.  What  did  the  man  want  of  words  after 
that  ? 

They  sat  down  together  on  the  nearest  couch,  and 
scarcely  knowing  how,  she  found  her  heart  so  close  to  his, 
that  the  two  seemed  beating  together  in  a  wild,  sweet 
tumult.  The  glow  of  his  first  kiss  was  on  her  lips  ;  he  was 
telling  her  in  earnest,  broken  words,  how  fondly,  how 
dearly  he  loved  her.  Nobly  would  she  feel  herself  mated 
when  she  became  the  mistress  of  his  home. 

There  was  something  besides  smiles  on  those  beautiful 
lips  now.  The  heart  has  its  own  language,  and  in  that  she 
had  answered  him. 

"  Do  I  love  you  ?  "  she  said  j  "  who  could  help  it  ?  Is 
there  a  woman  on  earth  who  could  refuse  such  happiness  ? 
I  forget  myself,  forget  everything,  even  the  poor  pride  that 
might  have  struggled  a  little  against  the  disparity  between 
us  which  seems  lost  to  me  now.  I  did  not  think  it  would 
be  so  sweet  to  accept  everything  and  give  nothing." 

"  You  certainly  love  me  and  no  other  living  man  ! "  he 
said  in  answer  to  her  sweet  trustfulness.  Tell  me  that  in 
words  J  tell  me  in  looks  !  make  me  sure  of  it." 

"  Love  you  !  Indeed,  indeed  I  do.  Never  in  my  life 
have  I  given  a  thought  of  such  feelings  to  any  man.  If 
you  can  find  happiness  in  owning  every  pulse  of  a  human 
soul,  it  is  yours." 

"  I  believe  it  and  accept  the  happiness ;  now  my  wife — 
for  in  a  few  weeks  you  must  be  that — let  us  go  up  to  Elsie. 
She  must  be  made  happy  also,  for  the  dear  child  loves  you 
scarcely  less  than  I  do." 

A  thought  of  something  like  shame  shot  through  the 
joy  of  the  moment,  with  Elizabeth.  Had  Elsie  suggested 
this  ? 

"  Will  she  be  pleased  ?     Will  she  be  surprised  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  I  think  so  ! "  was  Mellen's  frank  answer ; 
"  for  hereafter,  my  sweet  wife  must  be  a  guardian  angel  to 


T  O  M ,     T  H  E      GROOMSMAN.  29 

the  dear  child,  for  she  has  been,  till  now,  the  dearest  crea 
ture  to  me  on  earth." 

"  I,  too,  have  loved  her  better  than  anything,"  said 
Elizabeth. 

"  Have  I  not  seen  that  ?  Yes,  I  am  sure  we  shall  make 
Elsie  perfectly  happy.  She  has  dreaded  the  loneliness  of 
my  home.  Now  it  will  be  bright  as  heaven  for  her  and  for 


CHAPTER  II. 

TOM   THE   GROOMSMAN. 

Music  in  the  Central  Park  !  Such  music  as  made  the 
flowering  thicket,  covered  with  late  May  blossoms,  thrill  in 
the  soft  air  and  glow  out  more  richly  from  the  sweet  dis 
turbance.  It  was  a  glorious  afternoon,  the  lawns  were  as 
green  as  an  English  meadow,  and  my  observation  of  beau 
tiful  things  has  no  higher  comparison.  All  the  irregular 
hills,  ravines,  and  rocky  projections  were  so  broken  up  with 
trailing  vines  and  sweet  masses  of  spring-flowers,  that  every 
corner  and  nook  your  eye  turned  upon,  was  like  a  glimpse  of 
paradise. 

This  was  the  still  life  of  the  scene,  but  above  and  beyond 
was  congregrated  that  active,  cheerful  bustle  which  springs 
out  of  a  great  multitude  bent  on  enjoyment — cheerful, 
luxurious,  refined,  or  otherwise,  as  humanity  is  always 
found.  Carriages  dashed  in  and  out  of  the  crowd,  the  in 
mates  listening  to  the  music  or  chatting  together  in  subdued 
voices  :  groups  of  smiling  pedestrians  wandered  through 
the  labyrinths  of  blooming  thickets,  or  sat  tranquilly  on 
rustic  seats  sheltered  by  such  forest  trees  as  art  had  spared 
to  nature.  The  whole  scene  was  one  of  brilliant  confusion  ; 
but  out  of  the  constantly  shifting  groups,  forms  so  lovely 


30  T  O  M,     T  H  E      GROOMSMAN. 

that  you  longed  to  gaze  on  them  forever,  were  now  and  then 
given  to  the  beholder ;  and  equipages  vied  with  each  other 
that  might  have  graced  the  royal  parks  of  London  or  Paris 
without  fear  of  criticism. 

Just  as  the  sun  began  to  turn  its  silver  gleams  into  gold, 
the  music  ceased  with  a  grand  crash.  The  final  melody 
was  over,  and  the  swarin  of  carriages  broke  up,  whirled  off 
in  different  directions,  and  began  to  course  about  the  ring 
again,  or  drive  through  the  various  outlets  towards  Har 
lem,  Bloomingdale,  or  the  city,  which  lay  in  the  soft  gath 
ering  haze  of  the  distance. 

Among  the  stylish  equipages  that  disentangled  them 
selves  from  the  crowd  was  a  light  barouche,  cushioned  with 
a  rich  shade  of  drab  which  had  a  pink  flush  running 
through  it,  and  drawn  by  a  pair  of  jet-black  horses.  The 
carriage  was  so  perfect  in  its  proportions  and  so  exquisitely 
neat  in  its  appointments,  that  it  would  have  been  an  object 
of  general  admiration  during  the  whole  concert,  had  not  its 
inmates  carried  off  public  attention  before  it  had  time  to 
settle  on  the  vehicle. 

The  eldest,  a  woman  of  thirty-two  or  three,  elegantly 
dressed  and  generally  recognized,  seemed  to  be  the  mistress, 
for  it  was  her  gloved  hand  which  gave  the  signal  for  moving, 
and  the  coachman  always  looked  to  her  for  directions. 

A  slight  gesture  indicated  home,  the  moment  she  saw  her 
equipage  free  from  the  crowd,  but  the  lovely  young  creature 
on  the  front  seat  uttered  a  merry  protest  and  gave  a  laugh 
ing  counter-order,  threatening  the  elder  lady  with  her  half- 
closed  parasol,  till  the  point  lace  which  covered  it  fluttered 
like  the  fringed  leaves  of  a  great  white-hearted  poppy. 

"Only  a  short  drive,"  she  said;  "you  can't  want  to  go 
into  the  house,  dear  Mrs.  Harrington,  such  a  heavenly  day 
as  this." 

"  But,  my  love,  I  have  forty  things  to  do !  " 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  you  should  neglect  every  one 


TOM,     THE     GROOMSMAN. 

of  them,  since  it  is  not  possible  for  you  to  do  them  all," 
replied  the  young  girl,  with  a  laugh  and  a  pretty  wilful  air 
that  few  people  could  have  resisted.  "  Elizabeth,  are  you 
tired  ?  » 

The  young  lady  whom  she  addressed  had  heen  leaning 
back  in  her  seat  by  Mrs.  Harrington,  quite  regardless  of 
this  laughing  contention,  looking  straight  before  her  in  a 
Biniling,  dreamy  way,  which  proved  that  the  brightness  of 
the  scene  and  the  spell  of  the  music  had  wiled  her  into  some 
deep  and  pleasant  train  of  thought. 

Her  friend  spoke  twice  before  she  heard,  laughing  gayly 
at  her  abstraction,  and  Mrs.  Harrington  added — 

"Do come  out  of  dreamland,  dear  Miss  Fuller  ;  I  am  sure 
I  cannot  manage  this  wilful  little  thing  without  your  help." 
The  young    girl    shook   her   parasol    again  in  a  pretty^ 
threatening  way  as  she  said — 

"  You  are  not  tired,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"Tired  !  Oh  no  ;  it  is  very  pleasant,"  she  replied,  in  a 
voice  that  was  low  and  musical  with  the  sweetness  of  her 
broken  reverie. 

"  See,  you  are  in  the  minority,  Mrs.  Harrington,"  cried 
Elsie  Mellen.     "  You  had  better  submit  with  a  good  grace." 
"  Oh,  I  knew  Elizabeth  dared  not  side  against  you  ;  she 
spoils  you  worse  than  anybody,  even  your  brother." 

"  But  it's  so  nice  to  be  spoiled,"  said  Elsie,  gayly  ;  "  and 
you  must  help  in  it,  or  I  shall  do  something  dreadful  to 
you  just  here  before  everybody's  eyes." 

She  clenched  her  hand  play  full}7,  as  if  to  carry  her  threat 
into  instant  execution,  and  Mrs.  Harrington  cried  out— 
"  I  promise  !     I  promise  !     James,  take  another  turn." 
The  man  turned  his  horses  with  a  broad  sweep,  taking 
the  road  around  the  largest  lake.     Here  the  spoiled  beauty 
ordered  him   to  stop.     She  wanted  to  look  at  the  swans, 
"  such  great,  white,  lovely  drifting  snowballs  as  they  were." 
Mrs.  Harrington  made  no  objection,  but  leaned  back  with  a 
resigned  smile  on  her  lips. 


32  T  O  M,     T  H  E      GROOMSMAN. 

A  person  possessed  of  far  more  imagination  than  Elsie 
Mellen  ever  dreamed  of,  might  have  stopped  on  the  very 
road  to  paradise  to  gaze  on  that  pretty,  Arcadian  scene.  „ 

The  lake  was  one  glow  of  silver,  broken  up  in  long,  glit 
tering  swaths  by  troops  of  swans  that  sailed  over  it  with 
leisure!}  gracefulness,  now  pausing  to  crop  the  short  grass 
from  the  sloping  banks,  or  ruffling  their  short  white  plum 
age,  and  stretching  their  arched  necks  for  payments  of 
fruit  whenever  they  came  near  a  group  of  children,  or 
saw  a  rustic  from  the  country,  who  was  sure  to  delight  in 
seeing  the  birds  feed. 

The  sunshine  came  slanting  in  from  the  west,  cooling 
half  the  park  with  shadows,  and  lighting  the  rest  with 
gleams  of  purplish  gold.  The  paths  around  the  margin 
of  the  lake,  and  all  the  sloping  banks  were  alive  with 
gayly  dressed  people,  and  a  single  boat,  over  which  a  flock 
of  gay  parasols  hovered  like  tropical  birds,  mirrored  itself 
in  the  water. 

"  Now  see  what  you  have  gained  by  obeying  my  orders,'' 
exclaimed    Elsie,  casting    her    merry  eyes  over  the  scene. 
"  I  declare  the  swans  look  like  a  fleet  of  fairy  boats.     How 
I  would  like  to  sail  about  on  one  !     There,  that  will  do 
James,  drive  on." 

"  Home  ?  "  inquired  the  man. 

Before  his  mistress  could  answer,  Elsie  broke  in — "  Yes, 
Mrs.  Harrington,  since  you  are  properly  submissive,  we 
will  go  home,  if  you  wish." 

"  Oh,  I  only  proposed  it  because  we  have  so  much  to  do. 
1  should  enjoy  a  longer  drive.  Indeed,  now  that  you  have 
suggested  it,  we  will  take  at  least  one  turn." 

"  That's  a  darling,"  cried  Elsie  ;  and,  without  further 
ceremony,  she  ordered  the  coachman  to  take  the  Blooming- 
dale  road,  laughing  out  something  about  dying  for  old 
sheep  instead  of  lambs.  "  But  I  want  to  stop  at  Mail- 
lard's,"  protested  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  and  I  then  must  see 
about—" 


T  O  M,     T  H  E      GROOMSMAN.  33 

"Oh,  never  mind,  we  shall  have  time  enough,"  ex 
claimed  Elsie.  "  Drive  like  the  wind,  James,  the 
moment  you  get  beyond  these  horrid  policemen.  I 
wouldn't  have  anybody  pass  us  for  the  world." 

The  coachman  obeyed,  and  directly  those  two  black 
horses  were  dashing  along  the  road  in  splendid  style, 
leaving  care  and  prudence  far  behind  them. 

Elsie  was  in  her  element,  wild  as  a  bird  and  gay  as  the 
sunset.  She  talked  and  laughed  incessantly,  saying  all 
sorts  of  merry  things  in  a  childish  fashion,  that  kept  Mrs. 
Harrington  in  explosions  of  laughter,  more  natural  than 
she  often  indulged  in,  while  Elizabeth  Fuller  leaned  back 
in  her  seat,  listening,  absently  sometimes,  to  their  grace 
ful  banter,  glancing  at  the  young  girl  with  affectionate 
admiration  of  her  youthful  loveliness,  but  oftener  losing 
herself  in  the  pleasant  train  of  thought  which  had 
absorbed  her  all  the  afternoon. 

Three  persons  more  unlike  in  appearance  than  these 
ladies,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  ;  but  a  casual 
observer  would  probably  have  been  n!ost  attracted  by  the 
buoyant  loveliness  of  Elsie  Mellen. 

She  was  eighteen, — but  seemed  younger  with  her  fair 
curls,  her  brilliant  bloom,  and  the  childish  rapidity  with 
which  smiles  chased  each  other  across  her  face.  She 
looked  the  very  personification  of  happiness,  with  a  be 
witching  naivete  in  every  word  or  movement,  that  made 
her  very  childishness  more  captivating  than  the  wisdom 
of  older  and  more  sensible  women. 

Mrs.  Harrington  was  a  stylish,  dashing  widow,  with  a 
suspicion  of  rouge  on  her  somewhat  faded  cheeks,  and  an 
affectation  of  |ashionable  listlessness  which  a  look  of  real 
amiability  somewhat  belied.  She  was  one  of  those  frivo 
lous,  good-natured  women,  who  go  through  life  without 
ever  being  moved  by  an  actual  pleasure  or  pain,  so 
engrossed  by  their  petty  round  of  amusement,  that  if 
2 


34  TOM,     THE      GROOMSMAN. 

they  originally  possessed  faculties  capable  of  development 
into  something  better,  no  warning  of  it  ever  touches  their 
souls. 

Really  the  most  noble  and  imposing  person  present  was 
Miss  Fuller.  The  contrast  between  her  grave,  sweet  beauty 
and  the  frivolous  loveliness  of  the  other  two,  was  striking 
indeed.  Sometimes  her  large  gray  eyes  seemed  dull  and 
cold  under  their  long  black  lashes,  and  the  dark  hair  was 
banded  smoothly  away  from  a  forehead  that  betokened 
intellectual  strength  ;  the  mouth  was  a  little  compressed, 
giving  token  of  the  reticence  and  self-repose  of  her  nature, 
and  a  classical  correctness  of  profile  added  to  the  quiet 
gravity  of  her  countenance. 

But  it  was  quite  another  face  when  deep  feeling  kindled 
the  gray  eyes  into  sudden  splendor,  or  some  merry  thought 
softened  the  mouth  into  a  smile — then  she  looked  almost  as 
girlish  as  Elsie  herself. 

But  grave  or  smiling,  it  was  not  a  face  easy  to  read,  nor 
was  her  character  more  facile  of  comprehension,  even  to 
those  who  knew  her  best  and  loved  her  most. 

She  looked  very  stately  and  queenlike,  wrapped  in  her 
ample  shawl  and  leaning  back  in  her  seat  with  a  quiet 
grace  which  Mrs.  Harrington  attempted  in  vain  to  imitate. 
Indeed,  t^ie  effort  only  made  the  ambitious  little  woman 
appear  more  fussy  and  affected  than  ever. 

"  Here  comes  Tom  Fuller,"  cried  Elsie,  suddenly.  "  Was 
there  ever  such  an  ungraceful  rider  !  Just  look  at  him, 
Bessie,  and  laugh,  if  he  is  your  cousin.  I  insist  upon  it !  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  he's  such  a  love  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Harrington. 
"  Deliciously  odd." 

"  I'll  tell  him  you  said  that,"  cried  Elsie;  "just  to  see 
him  blush." 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  exclaimed  the  widow,  clasping  her  hands 
as  if  she  thought  Elsie  was  about  to  stop  the  carriage  and 
inform  him  then  and  there.  "  What  would  he  think  ?  " 


TOM,     THE      GROOMSMAN.  35 

The  young  man  at  whom  Elsie  was  laughing  quite 
unrestrainedly,  rode  rapidly  towards  them,  and  when  he 
saw  Elsie,  his  face  glowed  with  a  mingled  expression  of 
pleasure  and  embarrassment  that  made  her  laugh  more 
recklessly  than  ever. 

He  made  a  bow  almost  to  the  saddle,  nearly  lost  his  hat, 
and  did  not  recover  his  presence  of  mind  until  the  carriage 
had  dashed  on,  and  he  was  left  far  behind  to  grumble  at 
tjis  own  stupidity. 

"It  is  too  bad  of  you  to  laugh  at  him,"  said  Elizabeth 
Fuller,  a  little  reproachfully. 

"  Why,  darling,  he  likes  it,"  cried  Elsie,  "  and  it  does 
him  good." 

"  I  am  sure  his  devotion  to  you  is  plain  enough,"  said 
Mrs.  Harrington,  with  a  sentimental  shake  of  the  head. 
"  Hearts  are  too  rare  in  this  world  to  be  treated  so  care 
lessly." 

u  Oh,  don't !  "  exclaimed  Elsie.  "  You'll  be  repeating 
poetry  next !  Tom  is  a  nice  man,  just  a  great  awkward 
lump  of  goodness  ;  but  I  must  laugh  at  him.  Dear  me, 
what  a  groomsman  he  will  make !  Bessie,  I  know  he 
will  step  on  my  dress." 

"  I  hope  so,"  Elizabeth  replied,  good  naturedly ;  "  I 
shall  consider  you  served  right." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Mrs.  Harrington,  roused  by  a  fear  she  was 
fully  capable  of  appreciating,  "  it  would  be  such  a  pity 
to  have  all  that  beautiful  Brussels  point  torn — do  caution 
him,  my  dear." 

"  No,"  said  Elsie,  with  mock  resignation,  "  Bessie 
insists  upon  having  him  for  groomsman,  and  I  shall  let 
him  put  his  foot  through  my  flounces  with  perfect 
equanimity,  by  way  of  showing  my  affection  for  her. 
Talk  of  giving  your  life  for  your  friends,  what  is  that 
in  comparison  to  seeing  your  flounces  torn  ! " 

Her  companions  both  laughed,  but  Elizabeth  said  seri- 


86  A      F  R  I  0  IT  T      A  N  D      A      R  E  S  C  U  E. 

ously,  "When  you  know  Tom  better,  you  cannot  holp  re 
specting  him ;  he  is  my  one  relative,  and  I  love  him 
clearly." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Elsie,  "  and  I  mean  to  be  his  cousin, 
too;  but  it  is  my  cousinly  privilege  to  laugh  at  him." 

"  Perhaps  he  will  not  be  content  with  a  cousinly 
regard,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  mysteriously. 

Elizabeth  glanced  quickly  at  Elsie,  with  a  little  trouble 
in  her  face,  but  the  girl  laughed,  and  replied — 

"  Oh  yes,  he  will ;  Bessie  is  his  ideal — he  will  never  think 
of  poor  little  me." 

"Family  affection  is  so  sweet!"  added  Mrs.  Harring 
ton.  Elsie  made  a  grimace,  and  hastened  to  change  the 
conversation,  for  there  was  nothing  she  dreaded  so  much 
as  the  widow's  attempt  at  romance  and  sentiment. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

A    FRIGHT    AXD    A    RESCUE. 

FOR  some  time  the  ladies  rode  on  in  silence.  Then 
Elsie  broke  into  a  fit  of  ecstasy  over  the  horses. 

"  They  are  so  perfectly  matched,"  she  said.  "  Brother 
Grant  needn't  have  been  doubtful  about  them  ;  he  sha'n't 
persuade  you  to  change  them,  shall  he  ?  " 

"  They  are  beautiful  creatures,"  Bessie  observed,  absently. 

"  Naturally,  Mr.  Mellen  was  anxious  that  they  should 
be  entirely  safe,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  theatrically,  "  for 
he  has  trusted  his  dearest  treasures  —  his  sister  and  his 
betrothed  wife — to  me  ;  and  if  there  is  danger,  it  is  for 
them  as  well  as  me." 

"What  a  pretty  speech!"  said  Elsie.  "1  know  you 
got  it  out  of  a  novel !  " 


"H  • 

A      FRIGHT      AND      A      K  E  S  C  U  E.  37 

Elsie  had  a  gay  scarf  wound  about  her  neck,  and  began 
complaining  of  the  warmth. 

"  I  would  not  take  it  off,"  Mrs.  Harrington  urged, 
"  you  will  be  certain  to  get  cold." 

"  There  is  no  danger,"  replied  Elsie  ;  ts  I  shall  smother, 
wrapped  up  in  this  way." 

"  But  you  must  keep  it  on  !  " 

"  Indeed,  I  won't ;  there  !  " 

They  had  a  playful  contention  for  an  instant,  then  Elsie 
snatched  the  scarf  from  her  neck  with  a  triumphant  laugh, 
and  held  it  up  beyond  Mrs.  Harrington's  reach. 

A  sudden  rush  of  wind  carried  the  light  fabric  out  of  her 
hand,  and  it  sailed  away  like  a  gorgeous  streamer.  Elsie 
gave  a  little  cry,  but  it  was  frozen  on  her  lips.  One  of  the 
horses  had  been  restive  from  the  first.  The  scarf  floated 
over  his  head,  curved  downward,  and  one  end  got  entangled 
with  his  bridle.  The  shy,  spirited  creature  gave  a  wild 
bound,  communicated  like  terror  to  his  companion,  and 
away  the  frenzied  pair  dashed,  taking  the  coachman  so  com 
pletely  by  surprise,  that  he  was  helpless  as  a  child.  It  was 
one  of  those  brief  occurrences  which  pass  like  lightning  to 
lookers-on,  but  seem  an  eternity  to  the  persons  in  danger. 
Mrs.  Harrington's  shrieks  rang  out  sharp  and  shrill;  Elsie 
gave  one  shuddering  moan,  and  crouched  down  in  the 
bottom  of  the  carriage,  hiding  her  face  in  Elizabeth's  dress. 

Elizabeth  Fuller  was  deathly  pale.  She  realized  the  full 
terror  of  their  situation.  She  uttered  no  shriek,  but  clasped 
her  arms  around  Elsie,  and  strove  to  speak  a  few  reassuring 
words  to  Mrs.  Harrington,  which  were  drowned  by  the 
woman's  terrified  shrieks. 

Elizabeth  looked  desperately  down  the  road  over  which 
the  horses  were  rushing  like  wild  desert  steeds.  The  car 
riages  in  sight  were  turned  quickly  on  one  side,  and  their 
inmates  seemed  uncertain  how  to  assist  them.  Any 
attempt  to  stop  the  frightened  and  infuriated  animals 
threatened  certain  death, 


38  A      FRIGHT      AND      A      "RESCUE. 

Elizabeth  saw  this,  and  her  heart  died  within  her. 
They  were  now  at  the  top  of  a  long  hill,  keeping  the  road, 
but  hurled  onward  like  lightning.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill 
was  a  loaded  cart,  its  driver  vainly  striving  to  whip  his 
team  out  of  the  way.  The  brave  girl  saw  this  new  danger, 
and  fell  back  with  a  groan.  She  knew  that  the  carriage 
would  be  whirled  against  that  ponderous  load,  and  dashed 
to  atoms.  Effort  was  hopeless,  she  could  only  stretch 
forth  her  arms,  draw  Elsie  close,  close  to  her  cold  heart, 
and  pray  dumbly  that  she  might  in  mercy  be  permitted  to 
die  for  his  sister. 

Still,  in  her  anguish  and  terror,  she  looked  out  beyond 
the  leaping  horses,  as  they  thundered  down  the  hill.  The 
man  had  sprung  from  his  cart,  and,  with  his  whip  in  both 
hands,  was  lashing  his  overtasked  beasts  in  frantic  terror. 
Beyond  him  came  a  person  on  horseback,  riding  furiously. 
But  they  were  close  to  the  cart  now.  It  was  still  more 
than  half  across  the  road.  Sick  with  dread,  she  closed  her 
eyes,  holding  Elsie  close,  and  turning,  as  it  were,  to  stone, 
with  the  shrieking  young  coward  in  her  arms. 

In  another  instant  there  was  a  shock  which  threw  them 
all  off  their  seats ;  and  when  Elizabeth  could  realize  any 
thing,  or  recover  from  the  deafening  eftect  of  Mrs.  Har 
rington's  cries,  she  knew  that  the  horses  had  been  stopped 
— the  peril  was  over. 

The  gentleman  she  had  discovered  through  blinding 
clouds  of  dust,  riding  swiftly  towards  the  hill,  had  seen 
their  danger,  dismounted,  and  with  ready  presence  of  mind, 
prepared  to  seize  the  horses  the  instant  the  carriage  struck 
against  the  cart. 

One  wheel  was  forced  partially  off,  but  there  was  no 
other  harm  done.  Elsie  and  Mrs.  Harrington  had  both 
flung  themselves  on  Elizabeth,  so  that  she  could  neither 
se-e  nor  hear ;  but  the  widow  discovering  that  she  was  still 
alive,  made  a  little  moan,  and  began  to  shake  out  her 


A      FRIGHT      AND      A      RESCUE.  39 

flounces   when   she  saw  the   gentleman   who  had   rescued 
them  standing  by  the  side  of  the  carriage. 

"  You  are  safe,  ladies,"  he  said,  opening  the  door ;  "  you 
had  better  get  out  and  walk  on  to  the  hotel — it  is  only  a 
few  steps." 

"  How  can  we  ever  thank  you  !  "  sobbed  Mrs.  Harring 
ton.  "  You  are  our  preserver — we  owe  you  our  lives !  " 

He  smiled  a  little  at  her  exaggerated  manner,  which 
would  break  out' in  spite  of  her  real  terror,  and  helped  her 
to  alight  from  the  carriage. 

"We  are  saved,"  moaned  Elsie,  lifting  herself  from 
Elizabeth's  bosom.  "  I'm  not  hurt — I'm  not  hurt !  " 

She  was  lifted  out  of  the  carriage,  and  stood  trembling 
by  Mrs.  Harrington.  Eor  the  first  time,  relieved  of  their 
weight,  Elizabeth  was  able  to  move  and  look  up. 

The  stranger  was  standing  by  the  carriage  with  his  arm 
extended  to  assist  her.  She  partially  rose — then,  and  with 
out  the  slightest  warning,  beyond  a  deep,  shuddering 
breath,  sank  back  insensible. 

Elsie  and  Mrs.  Harrington  gave  a  simultaneous  cry,  but 
there  was  no  opportunity  for  the  widow  to  go  into  hysterics, 
as  she  had  intended,  since  the  stranger  and  the  footman 
were  fully  occupied  in  lifting  Elizabeth  from  the  broken 
carriage.  Elsie  was  crying  wildly,  "Bessie!  Bessie!" 
and  wringing  her  hands  in  real  affright. 

"  She  has  only  fainted,"  said  the  stranger  hurriedly  ; 
"  we  will  carry  her  on  to  the  hotel." 

He  raised  the  insensible  girl  in  his  arms,  and  carried 
her  down  towards  the  inn,  as  if  she  had  been  a  child ; 
while  her  companions  followed,  sobbing  off  their  terror  as 
they  went. 

Once  in  the  house,  and  the  stranger  out  of  the  way, 
Mrs.  Harrington  recovered  her  wits  sufficiently  to  give 
Elizabeth  assistance,  and  restore  her  to  consciousness. 

Elizabeth  opened  her  eyes,  gave  one  glance  around,  and 
closed  them  again. 


40  A      FRIGHT      AND      A      RESCUE. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  cried  Elsie. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  What  made  you  faint  so  suddenly  ?  "  demanded  Mrs. 
Harrington.  "  The  danger  was  over." 

Elizabeth  made  a  strong  effort  at  self-control,  sat  up 
right,  and  tried  to  answer. 

"  I  can't  tell— I—" 

"  Do  you  know  that  gentleman  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Har 
rington. 

"  Why,  how  can  she  ?  "  said  Elsie. 

"  Well,  she  fainted  just  as  she  looked  at  him." 

Elizabeth  controlled  herself,  found  strength  to  rise,  say 
ing  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Harrington's  repeated  inquiries — 

"  How  should  I  know  him  ?— what  folly  !  " 

But  she  was  trembling  so  violently,  that  they  forced  her 
to  lie  down  again. , 

"  Stay  with  her,  Elsie,"  said  the  widow,  "  I  will  go 
and  see  how  we  are  to  get  home." 

She  went  out  of  the  room,  and  in  the  hall  encountered 
the  gentleman  just  as  she  had  expected. 

She  overwhelmed  him  with  protestations  of  gratitude,  to 
which  he  listened  with  no  great  appearance  of  interest, 
though  Mrs.  Harrington  was  too  completely  dazzled  by 
his  brilliant  appearance  and  manner  to  perceive  the  absent, 
preoccupied  way  in  which  he  received  her. 

"  I  don't  know  how  we  are  to  get  home,"  she  said. 

"  Your  coachman  has  engaged  a  carriage  from  the  hotel- 
keeper,"  he  replied ;  "  it  will  be  ready  in  a  few  moments. 
Your  own  horses  are  not  hurt,  luckily." 

"I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Melleu  will  say!"  she 
exclaimed.  "He  warned  me  not  to  keep  the  horses." 

The  stranger  turned  quickly  toward  her,  with  a  sudden 
flush  on  his  face. 

"  May  I  know  whom  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  assist 
ing  ?  "  he  asked. 


A     FRIGHT      AND     A      RESCUE.  41 

"I  am  Mrs.  Harrington,"  she  replied,  "of street. 

I  am  so — " 

"And  your  friends  ?" 

"  Miss  Mellen,  the  sister  of  Grantley  Mellen  ;  and  the 
other  lady  is  his  betrothed  wife." 

"  She !     That—" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Dear  me,  if  any  accident  had  occurred, 
how  terrible  it  would  have  been  !  They  are  to  be  married 
next  week,"  continued  the  widow,  hurriedly.  "  Mr.  Mel- 
leu  is  out  of  town,  arid  will  not  be  back  till  just  before  his 
wedding.  Oh,  I  shudder  to  think  !  Dear,  dear  sir,  how- 
can  I  thank  you  !  " 

The  servant  came  up  that  moment  to  say  that  a  carriage 
was  ready  to  take  the  ladies  back  to  the  city,  and  the  gen 
tleman  escaped  from  her  flood  of  meaningless  gratitude. 

Mrs.  Harrington  ran  back  to  call  her  friends,  and  found 
Elizabeth  quite  composed  and  strong  again. 

"  He's  the  most  magnificent  creature  !  "  exclaimed  the 
widow.  "And  you  don't  know  him,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  Have  I  not  said  so  ?     Come,  Elsie." 

As  she  passed  into  the  hall,  Elizabeth  hurried  on,  leaving 
Mrs.  Harrington  to  repeat  her  thanks,  and  Elsie  to  utter  a 
few  low,  and  apparently  thankful  words,  to  which  he  lis 
tened  with  more  interest  than  he  had  done  to  all  the 
widow's  raptures. 

They  were  in  the  carriage  :  the  door  closed;  the  stranger 
gave  his  parting  bow,  Elizabeth  leaned  further  back  in  her 
seat,  and  they  drove  on,  leaving  him  standing  in  the  road. 

"His  name  is  North,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington.  "  Such  aa 
adventure  !  What  will  Mr.  Mellen  say  ?  " 

"  We  won't  tell  him  yet,"  Elsie  replied  ;  "  it  would  only 
frighten  him.  Be  sure  and  not  mention  it,  dear  Mrs.  Har 
rington." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,  — just  as  you  like.  But  what  a 
handsome  man  that  was  !  North — North  ?  Who  can  he 
be  ?  I  have  never  met  him  !  " 


42        HIGH     FESTIVAL    AT    PINEY     COVE. 

"Whoever  lie  is,  he  has  saved  our  lives,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Yes,  yes !  But,  dear  Miss  Fuller,  how  oddly  you 
acted!" 

"  Do  put  up  your  veil,  Bessie,"  added  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  obeyed,  showing  her  face,  pale  and  tremulous 
still. 

"  I  was  very  much  frightened,"  she  said ;  "  I  think  my 
side  was  hurt  a  little — that  was  why  I  fainted." 

She  made  no  other  answer  to  their  wondering  questions, 
and  they  drove  rapidly  back  to  Mrs.  Harrington's  house. 

The  stranger  stood  upon  the  porch  of  the  hotel,  looking 
after  the  carriage  so  long  as  it  was  in  sight,  with  a  strange, 
inexplicable  expression  upon  his  handsome  face. 

After  a  time,  he  roused  himself,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
rode  slowly  back  to  the  city. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HIGH    FESTIVAL    AT    PINEY    COVE. 

ON  the  shores  of  Long  Island,  where  the  ocean  heaves 
in  its  wildest  and  most  crystalline  surf,  a  small  cove  had 
broken  itself  into  the  slopes  of  an  irregular  hill,  after  gen 
erations  of  beating  storms  and  crumbling  earth,  taking  a 
crescent  shape,  and  forming  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
bits  of  landscape  to  be  found  along  the  coast.  The  two 
points  or  promontories  that  stretched  their  green  arms  to 
the  ocean,  were  clothed  with  thickly  growing  white  pines, 
scattered  with  chestnuts,  and  a  few  grand  old  oaks.  The 
country  sloped  beautifully  down  to  this  bright  sheet  of 
water,  and  swept  around  it  in  rocky  points  and  broken 
groves,  giving  glimpses  of  rich  grass-land,  more  luxuriantly 
cultivated  than  is  usual  to  that  portion  of  the  island.  As 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PI  NET    COVE.         43 

you  looked  on  the  scene  from  the  water,  a  house  was  visible 
on  the  hillside,  and  came  in  full  view  as  the  shore  was 
approached.  It  was  a  noble  stone  mansion,  old  as  the  hills, 
people  were  used  to  say,  and  solid  as  their  foundations. 
The  house  had  been  a  stately  residence  before  the  Revolution, 
and,  without  an  earthquake  or  a  ton  of  powder,  would 
remain  such  for  a  century  to  come. 

Whatever  the  body  of  the  house  had  been  in  the  good 
old  times,  when  ornament  was  little  thought  of,  it  was  now 
rendered  picturesque  by  lofty  towers,  and  additional  wings 
with  oriel  windows  and  carved  balconies  in  one  direction  ; 
while  the  other  wing  clasped  in  a  conservatory,  of  which 
nothing  could  be  seen  from  the  distance  but  wave  upon 
wave  of  rolling  crystal  emerald,  tinted  like  the  ocean  by 
the  wealth  of  green  plants  they  covered. 

This  was  the  residence  Grantley  Mellen  had  inherited 
from  a  maternal  uncle  just  after  his  first  struggle  in  life 
commenced.  It  was  backed  by  many  a  fruitful  field  and 
broad  stretch  of  timber-land,  which  altogether  went  under 
the  title  of  Piney  Cove. 

Grantley  Mellen,  since  he  became  possessed  of  the  estate, 
had  completed  the  work  his  uncle  commenced  when  he  built 
the  two  grand  towers,  and  a  more  picturesque  building 
could  not  well  be  imagined,  with  its  broad  lawn,  its  clumps 
of  forest  trees,  and  that  magnificent  ocean  view,  which  was 
broken  only  by  the  pine  groves  on  the  two  points. 

This  was  by  no  means  the  only  house  visible  from  the 
cove.  As  you  turned  the  southern  point,  a  village  was  seen 
down  the  coast ;  and  about  half  way  between  that  and  the 
pines  was  a  wooden  house,  brown  and  weather-beaten, 
standing  unsheltered  on  the  bleak  shore.  Back  of  this 
house,  shutting  out  all  prospect  but  that  of  the  ocean,  was 
a  tall  cliff,  covered  with  ragged  yellow  pines  and  stunted 
cedars,  from  which  on  stormy  nights  many  a  quivering 
flame  had  shot  upward,  luring  ships  to  their  ruin.  Still, 


4-1 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     P  I  N  E  Y     COVE. 


with  this  grim  protest  against  the  name  looming  behind  it, 
the  lonely  old  house  was  called  «  The  Sailor's  Safe  Anchor," 
and  was  known  all  along  the  coast  as  a  fishing-lodge  and 
small  tavern. 

But  once  within  the  cove,  you  saw  no  sign  of  habitation 
save  the  mansion  house  and  its  appurtenances. 

Grautley  Mellen  had  been  some  weeks  at  the  cove,  reno 
vating  and  preparing  the  house  for  the  reception  of  his 
bride  ;  for  it  was  understood  that  he  intended  henceforth  to 
make  it  his  permanent  residence.  But  the  wedding-day 
was  near,  and  he  had  gone  up  to  the  city,  leaving  the  last 
preparations  to  the  care  of  a  singular  class  of  household 
servants,  one  of  his  uncle's  philanthropic  importations  from 
the  South,  where  he  had  owned  a  plantation,  and  emanci 
pated  all  its  slaves  except  a  half  dozen,  that  would  only 
accept  liberty  on  condition  that  they  might  follow  the  old 
man  to  his  northern  home. 

Grantley  had  accepted  this  sable  household  with  the 
general  inheritance  ;  for,  spoiled  and  pampered  as  family 
negroes  are  apt  to  be,  they  had  proved  generally  faithful 
and  obedient. 

Though  a  very  reverential  and  submissive  person  when 
her  master  was  present,  Clorinda,  who  had  appointed  her 
self  housekeeper  of  the  establishment,  was  apt  to  get  on  to 
a  very  high  horse  indeed  when  there  was  no  superior  au 
thority  to  hold  her  in  check;  and,  on  this  particular  occa 
sion,  she  was  absolutely  what  she  declared  herself—"  chief 
cook  and  bottle-washer." 

This  sable  functionary  was  very  busy  two  or  three 
mornings  before  the  time  set  for  her  master's  wedding, 
not  only  in  the  general  preparations  for  that  event,  but 
with  a  grand  idea  of  her  own,  which  she  was  earnestly 
carrying  into  effect.  If  the  house  was  going  into  the 
hands  of  a  new  mistress,  the  colored  persons  of  the  estab 
lishment  had  resolved  to  commemorate  the  event  in  advance 
with  a  grand  entertainment. 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PI  NET    COVE. 


45 


To  this  end,  Clorinda,  who  appointed  herself  lady  patron 
ess  in  general,  had  betaken  herself  to  Mr.  Mellen's  library 
with  Caleb  Benson,  the  high-shouldered,  bald-headed  occu 
pant  of  "  The  Sailor's  Safe  Anchor,"  and  the  person  whose 
prerogative  it  had  been  to  supply  fresh  fish  to  the  family  at 
Piney  Cove.  Besides  this,  he  performed  a  good  deal  of 
work  in  the  grounds,  and  made  himself  generally  useful. 

This  morning  Benson  had  come  up  to  the  house  at  Miss 
Clorinda's  special  request,  in  order  to  assist  in  the  literary 
department  of  the  coming  entertainment.  Neither  Clorinda 
nor  any  of  her  dark  compeers  could  read  or  write,  but  invi 
tations  must  be  sent  out  after  the  most  approved  fashion  ; 
and  Clorinda  had  a  fancy  that  the  neighborhood  of  so  many 
books  would  be  a  great  help,  so  she  led  Caleb  with  august 
ceremony  into  the  spacious  library,  and  laid  a  quantity  of 
pink  note-paper  and  yellow  envelopes,  all  covered  and  em 
bossed  with  silver,  on  the  table  before  him. 

"  Jes  set  down,  Mr.  Caleb,  and  write  dem  tings  out 
special,"  she  said,  rolling  up  a  great  leathern  chair,  and 
patting  its  glossy  green  cushions  enticingly.  "  Set  down, 
Caleb,  an'  write,  for  I  know  yer  kin." 

Caleb  laid  his  cap  on  one  chair,  and  his  stout  walking- 
stick  across  another.  Then  he  rubbed  the  hard  palms  of  his 
hands  fiercely  together,  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  Mr. 
Mellen's  chair,  that  threatened  to  roll  from  under  him  each 
moment. 

"Now,  Miss  Clo,  what  is  it  you  want  of  me?  I'm  on 
hand  for  a'most  anything." 

"  I  knows  you  is,  and  ales  wuz,  Caleb  ;  that's  why  I 
trusted  yer  wid  de  delicatest  part  ob  dis  entertainment. 
'Member  its  premptory  to  de  weddin'." 

"  Preparatory,  isn't  that  the  correct  word,  Miss  Clo  ?  " 
"Well,  take  yer  cliice,  if  you  ain't  suited,  Caleb  Benson." 
"  Wai,  wal ;  don't  git  out  to  sea  afore  the  tide's  up,  old 
woman." 


40        HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PI  KEY     COVE. 

"  Ole  woman  !  Ole  woman  yerself,  Caleb  Benson  !  "  re 
torted  Clorinda. 

" Jes  so!"  answered  the  fisherman,  seizing  upon  the 
largest  steel  pen  to  be  found,  and  grinding  it  on  the  bottom. 
of  a  bronze  inkstand.  Clorinda  put  both  hands  to  her 
mouth,  and  would  have  cried  out ;  but,  remembering  how 
few  teeth  she  had  to  be  set  on  edge,  thought  better  of  it, 
and  stood  in  glum  silence  while  Caleb  made  his  prepara 
tions. 

That  remarkable  functionary  had  a  piece  of  business 
before  him  which  threatened  to  task  the  resources  of  his 
genius  to  their  full  extent,  but  he  was  not  the  man  to  shrink 
from  the  responsibility  which  his  desire  to  retain  a  high 
place  in  the  powerful  Clorinda' s  good-will  had  induced  him 
to  accept. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Caleb,  giving  his  chair  another  hitch, 
dipping  his  pen  afresh  into  the  inkstand,  and  holding  it 
suspended  over  the  paper,  with  a  threatening  drop  slowly 
collecting  on  the  nib.  "Now  we'll  get  under  weigh  just  as 
soon  as  you  give  the  signal." 

"  Tak  car  ob  de  ink  ! "  shrieked  Clorinda,  pulling  the 
paper  from  under  his  hand  in  time  to  preserve  it  from  the 
great  blot  of  ink  that  descended  on  the  table-cover  instead. 
"  Dat's  a  purty  splotch,  now,  ain't  it  j  yer  a  nice  hand, 
Caleb  Benson  ! " 

"  Taint  much,  nobody'll  ever  notice  it,"  said  Caleb, 
wiping  it  off  with  his  coat-sleeve.  "  Don't  raise  a  breeze 
about  nothin',  Clorindy." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  'bout  breezes,"  she  retorted,  in  an 
irritated  tone,  for  Clorinda,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  had  not  even 
a  fair  portion  of  the  small  stock  of  patience  which  usually 
falls  to  our  sex.  "  I  'clar  to  goodness  dere  ain't  nothin'  so 
stupid  as  a  man.  I  jis  hate  de  hull  sect  like  pison,  I  duz." 
"Oh,  no  you  don't,  Clorindy,"  he  replied,  "you  hain't 
got  so  old  yet  but  what  you  can  hold  your  own  with  the 
youngest  of  'eui  when  there's  a  fancy  mulatter  chap  round." 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PI  KEY     COVE.         47 

'-'  What  doz  yer  mean  by  ole  !  "  cried  Clorinda.  "  I  tells 
you  what,  Caleb  Benson,  ef  yer  only  undertuk  this  job  to  be 
a  aggrawatin'  and  insultin'  me,  you  and  I's  done  !  I  ain't 
gwine  to  stand  sich  trash,  now  I  tells  yer  !  Is  dis  yer 
thanks  fur  all  I'se  done  ?  Who  got  ye  de  run  ob  de  house, 
I'd  like  to  know  ;  who  sot  ye  up  for  selling  better  fish  than 
anybody  in  de  neighborhood ;  who  nebber  said  nothin' 
when  de  soap-fat  all  disappeared,  and  you  said  it  had  melted 
in  de  sun  ;  who  fixed  up  mince-pies  fur  you  ;  who — " 

There  is  no  telling  to  what  extent  Clorinda  might  have 
carried  her  revelations,  but  the  old  man  interrupted  her 
with  all  the  excuses  he  could  think  of  at  so  short  notice. 

"  I  was  just  funning,  Cloriudy  ;  don't  go  off  the  handle. 
In  course  I  want  to  obleege  you.  Thar,  thar !  Now 
what  do  you  want  to  have  wrote  ?  We  ain't  going  to  quar 
rel — old  friends  like  us." 

"  Ain't  we!"  cried  Clorinda,  folding  her  arms.  "Then 
jis  you  keep  a  civil  tongue,  dat's  all.  Times  is  changed, 
and  der's  a  new  misses  a  comin' ;  but  you  may  all  onder- 
stand  dat  I  rules  de  kitchen  yet,  and  I'se  gwine  to." 

"  Sartin,  sartin !  Wai  now,  about  these  here  billet 
ducks,"  said  Caleb,  cunningly  ;  "  I  must  hurry  up,  you  see, 
or  I  shan't  get  round  afore  night." 

Clorinda  forgot  her  injured  feelings  in  excitement  about 
the  party,  and  ordered  him  to  commence  work  without  far 
ther  delay. 

"  Wai,"  said  Caleb,  spreading  out  the  paper  again,  "  I'll 
leave  a  blank  for  the  names,  that'll  save  trouble.  I  reckon 
you  want  somethin'  like  this — '  Miss  Clorindy  and  Miss 
Victory's  compliments — '  ' 

"  What's  Vic  got  to  do  wid  it,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  "  Clo 
burst  in  ;  "  it's  my  party,  just  'member  dat.  It's  enough 
to  hev  her  company,  widout  her  settin'  up  for  a  hostage." 

"Any  thing  to  suit,"  said  Caleb,  patiently.  "  Wai,  then 
I'll  say  that  Miss  Clormdy  hopes  to  have  the  pleasure  of 


48         HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PINEY     COVE. 

Mr.  so  and  so's  company,  and  wants  to  see  you  to  a  little 
tea  drinkin'  this  evening." 

"Lord!"  cried  Clo.  "If  ye  hain't  got  no  more  larnin' 
dan  dat,  I'd  better  find  somebody  else  !  Do  yer  tink  I 
got  pink  paper  and  silver-sprigged  'welopers  to  write  sich 
trash  on  ?  Tea  drinkiu'  indeed  !  Why  dis  here's  to  be  a 
rigler  scrumptious,  fash'nable  'tainment  !  I  want  yer  to 
say,  l  Miss  Clorindy  consents  her  most  excruciating  com 
pliments,  and  begs  to  state  that,  owing  to  de  'picious  ewent 
ob  de  master's  weddin',  she  takes  dis  opportunity  to  'quest 
de  'stinguished  company  ob  Mr.  Otheller  Jones  for  dis 
evenin',  to  a  reparatory  'tainment;  and  she  would  furder 
mention  dat  dare  will  be  plenty  ob  weddin'-cake,  wid  a 
ring  in  it,  ice  cream  in  pinnacles,  red  and  white,  and  a 
dance  in  de  laundry  to  fiddles.'  Dar,  dat's  sotnethin'  like." 

"  Yes,"  said  Caleb,  quite  breathless  ;  "  now  tell  it  to  me 
as  I  get  ahead,  'cause  it's  a  mighty  long  rigmarole." 

"  Oh,"  added  Clorinda,  "  den  at  the  bottom  you  must 
put — '  P.  S. — Yaller  gloves  and  'rocur  pumps,  if  conven 
ient."' 

That  last  touch  of  elegance  quite  upset  Caleb,  and  he 
began  to  think  that  if  Clorinda  was  black,  and  couldn't 
write  her  name,  she  really  was  a  wonderful  woman.  Clo 
was  so  softened  by  his  applause  that  they  got  on  very  harmo 
niously,  and  the  invitations  were  written  out  in  Clorinda's 
peculiar  phraseology  and  in  Caleb's  largest  hand.  As  it 
was  an  affair  of  importance,  he  put  capitals  at  the  begin- 
ing  of  nearlj7  every  word,  sometimes  in  the  middle  and 
altogether  the  writing  made  such  a  show,  that  Clorinda  was 
delighted. 

"  Don't  forget  de  P.  S.,"  said  she. 

"Yes,"  said  Caleb,  making  a  tremendous  flourish. 
"  P.  S. — Yaller  gloves  and  'rocur  pumps,  if  convenient." 

Clo  inspected  the  first  note  as  carefully  as  if  she  could 
read,  expressed  her  approbation,  and  urged  him  on,  till, 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     P  I  N  E  Y     COVE.         49 

with  much  labor,  Caleb  completed  the  requisite  number, 
put  them  safety  in  their  gorgeous  envelopes,  and  directed 
them  to  the  persons  Clorinda  mentioned. 

"  Now,  jis  be  as  quick  as  you  kin/'"  she  said ;  "  1'se  got 
to  go  back  to  see  to  tings — can't  trust  dat  Vic,  no  how  1 
Wai,  I  guess  Mr.  Dolf  ;11  see  de  difference  'tween  folks  and 
folks." 

Benson  knew  that  Dolf,  Mr.  Mellen's  own  man,  was  a 
special  weakness  of  Clorinda's,  though  it  was  only  her 
reputation  for  accumulated  wages  which  induced  that  dash 
ing  yellow  individual  to  treat  her  with  any  attention. 

Caleb  received  his  last  instructions,  and  started  on  his 
mission,  which  was  successfully  fulfilled.  Then  he  took 
his  way  homeward  after  going  back  to  the  house  to  ac 
quaint  Clorinda  with  the  result,  which  was  equal  to  her  ex 
pectations,  and  that  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

As  he  approached  the  little  tavern,  he  saw  a  gentleman 
standing  on  the  steps,  with  a  colored  servant  guarding  a 
pile  of  guns,  fishing-rods,  and  other  tackle,  with  which  idle 
men  frequently  came  down  from  the  city  to  endure  Caleb's 
humble  fare  for  a  while,  and  gratify  their  masculine  pro 
pensity  for  destruction. 

But  this  gentleman  was  a  stranger  to  'Caleb,  and  he 
looked  at  him  enviously,  though  with  the  approbation  which 
his  appearance  would  have  elicited  from  more  refined 
judges. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  Caleb  Benson/'  the  gentleman  said, 
throwing  away  the  end  of  a  cigar,  as  the  old  man  mounted 
the  steps. 

"  Wai,  they  call  me  so,  sometimes,"  replied  Caleb  ;  for  the 
instincts  of  his  New  England  birthplace  had  not  deserted 
him,  and  he  never  answered  a  question  in  a  straightforward 
manner,  if  he  could  help  it. 

"  Some  friends  of  mine  told  me  I  could  find  very  com 
fortable   quarters    with   you/'  pursued   the   stranger.     "  I 
3 


50         HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PINEY     COVE. 

have  run  clown  to  see  the  place,  and  take  a  day's  duck 
shooting.  I  want  to  engage  rooms,  and  leave  my  traps 
here,  so  that  I  can  coine  over  whenever  I  feel  like  it." 

"••I  want  to  know, — mean  to  have  a  good  long  shute  do 
you  ! "  said  Caleb.  "  Wai,  I  guess  I  could  fix  you  up,  if 
you  ain't  too  particular." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  particular  what  I  pay,"  replied  the 
gentleman  ;  "  I  suppose  that  is  satisfactory." 

"  I  ain't  going  to  say  'tain't,"  returned  Caleb,  his  eyes 
beginning  to  twinkle  at  the  prospect  of  a  liberal  guest,  who 
meant  to  come  frequently. 

"  I  reckon  you'd  like  to  see  what  I  can  do  in  the  way  of 

rooms,  Mr.,  Mr. Wai,  I  don't   think  I  quite    ketched 

your  name." 

"  Mr.  North,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling  at  the  man's 
shrewdness. 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments  talking  with  Caleb,  and 
though  the  old  fellow  was  not  easily  pleased,  he  was 
quite  fascinated  by  the  stranger's  manner ;  and,  having 
a  very  vague  idea  of  princes,  was  almost  inclined  to  think 
that  this  splendid-looking  creature  might  be  one  who  had 
strayed  over  from  his  native  kingdom  on  a  fishing  excur 
sion. 

"  Now  let  me  see  the  rooms,"  said  Mr.  North.  "  I 
suppose  my  man  may  as  well  carry  the  traps  up  stairs 
DOW — the  place  is  certain  to  suit  me." 

Caleb  looked  at  the  stylish  colored  individual  who  was 
leaning,  in  a  graceful  attitude,  over  the  luggage,  and  a 
brilliant  idea  struck  him. 

"  I  say  you,"  he  called,  "I've  got  a  ticket  that'll  just 
suit  you,  Mr. What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  redressing  me,"  replied  the  sable  gentle 
man,  majestically,  "  ray  name  is  Mr.  Julius  Hannibal." 

"  Want  to  know !  "  said  Caleb.  "  Wai,  here's  an  invite 
that  was  just  meant  for  a  fine-looking  chap  like  you." 


HIGH     FESTIVAL     AT     PINKY     COVE.         51 

Caleb  drew  one  of  the  notes  from  his  pocket,  and  held 
it  out.  Hannibal  took  it  with  considerable  dignity, 
doubtful  how  to  receive  such  unceremonious  compliments. 

"  You  are  in  luck,  Ju,"  said  his  master.  "  What's  it 
all  about,  Mr.  Benson  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Mellen — he's  one  of  our  rich  men  down 
here — is  going  to  be  married  this  week,  so  his  servants 
thought  they'd  have  a  blow-out  to-night,  for  fear  they 
wouldn't  get  the  chance  after  the  new  mistress  comes." 

"  Go,  by  all  means,"  said  North,  almost  eagerly. 
"  Make  all  the  friends  you  can,  Ju,  for  we  shall  be  here 
a  good  deal — go,  certainly." 

Hannibal  drew  himself  up,  bowed  to  his  master,  and 
said  to  Caleb  in  a  stately  way — 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  mixture  in  the  festive  throng, 
but  would  most  'spectfully  state  to  Miss  Clorindy  that 
morocur  pumps  is  banished  from  polite  society,  and  only 
patting  leathers  is  worn — but  these  is  trifles." 

North  took  the  note  from  his  servant's  hand,  and  could 
not  repress  his  merriment  as  he  read  it;  but  Caleb 
received  that  as  a  compliment,  and  looked  so  conscious, 
that  it  was  easy  to  discover  what  share  he  had  taken  in 
the  matter. 

"  Pinnacles  of  ice  cream,  and  a  dance  in  the  landing," 
read  Mr.  North.  "  Why  choose  the  landing,  Mr.  Benson  ?  " 

"  Laundry,  laundry  !     I  guess  it's  blotted  a  leetle." 

"  Oh  yes — I  see  !  Upon  my  word,  quite  magnificent ! 
So  Mr, — Mellen,  did  you  call  him  ? — is  to  be  married  this 
week.  Well,  well,  that  fate  overtakes  most  of  us,  sooner 
or  later.  We  will  go  up  stairs  now,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Benson." 

The  old  man  led  the  way  up  to  the  room,  which  was 
kept  in  readiness  for  visitors  of  importance,  and  which  had 
been  made  quite  comfortable  by  the  various  articles  of 
furniture  that  the  different  occupants  had  presented  to 
Caleb,  on  leaving  his  house. 


52  A     BALL      IN      THE      BASEMENT. 

The  bargain  was  not  a  difficult  one,  as  Mr.  JTorth 
appeared  quite  willing  to  pay  Benson  his  own  price,  and  the 
old  fellow  was  only  in  doubt  as  to  the  extent  to  which  he 
might  safely  carry  his  extortion. 

When  they  went  down  stairs  again,  the  steamboat  had 
just  come  in  to  the  landing,  and  Dolf,  Mr.  Mellen's  man, 
was  making  his  way  to  the  tavern,  having  come  to  the 
island  to  see  that  the  house  was  in  readiness,  and  dazzle 
the  eyes  of  the  females  by  the  wonderful  new  clothes  which 
had  fallen  to  his  share  of  the  wedding  perquisites. 

"  That's  just  the  ticket,"  said  Caleb ;  "  Mellen's  man'll 
take  you  over  to  the  place,  Mr.  Julius,  and  set  you  a  goin'. 
I'm  going  there  myself  now,  but  you'll  have  to  fix  your 
master  up  first,  so  you  can  come  with  Dolf." 

While  Julius  was  going  through  the  ceremonies  of  an 
introduction,  Mr.  North  called  him  away,  and  seemed  to  be 
giving  him  some  very  particular  directions.  When  he 
came  back,  Dolf,  who  was  greatly  rejoiced  at  this  acquisi 
tion,  said,  anxiously, 

"  Won't  he  let  you  go  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Hannibal,  but  a  little  uneasily. 
"  It  was  only  about  a  fishing-rod  I  left  behind." 


CHAPTEE  V. 

A    BALL    IN    THE    BASEMENT. 

THE  day  wore  on.  Everything  was  in  a  state  of  prepar 
ation  in  the  old  mansion-house.  The  last  ovenful  of  cake 
had  been  placed  by  an  open  window  in  the  pantry,  that  its 
frosted  surface  might  harden  into  beauty.  The  ice-cream 
freezers,  ready  to  yield  up  their  precious  contents,  were  set 
away  in  a  cool  place,  and  Victoria,  a  pretty  mulatto  girl 


A     BALL     IN      THE      BASEMENT.  53 

who  had  come  to  the  house  an  orphan  child,  was  busy  carv 
ing  red  and  white  roses  out  of  a  little  pile  of  turnips  and 
delicately  shaped  blood-beets,  intended  to  ornament  divers 
plates  of  cold  turkey  and  chicken  salad.  This  pretty  fancy 
work  was  carried  on  in  the  front  basement  or  housekeeper's 
room,  while  a  bustle  of  preparation  gave  promise  of  great 
things  from  the  kitchen.  Clorinda,  the  moving  spirit  of  all 
this  commotion,  rushed  from  basement  to  kitchen,  and  then 
to  pantry  and  store-room,  in  a  state  of  exhilaration  that 
set  fresh  currents-  of  air  in  circulation  wherever  she  went. 
This  was  the  great  day  of  the  faithful  servant's  life,  and 
she  felt  its  importance  in  every  cord  of  her  heart. 

"  Now,"  she  called  out,  addressing  Victoria  with  a  pomp 
ous  lift  of  the  head,  "  yer  can  come  up  stairs  and  help 
about  thar.  Them  roseys  ain't  so  bad  but  that  I've  seen 
wuss  ;  but  there's  'nuff  of  ?ern,  so  cum  'long  o'  me,  and 
shut  up  de  draw'n'-room  winder-blinds." 

Victoria  ran  up  stairs,  two  steps  at  a  leap,  and,  in  a 
breath,  was  shutting  out  the  beautiful  sunset,  and  quench 
ing  a  thousand  flashes  of  arrowy  rays  that  scattered  gold 
over  the  plate-glass. 

"  Now,"  said  Clorinda,  as  the  last  shutter  was  closed, 
"  yer  can  take  the  spy-glass  and  see  if  any  pusson  is  corn- 
in'  up  from  the  pint." 

Victoria  was  only  too  glad.  She  sprang  across  the  tes 
sellated  pavement  of  the  hall,  and  seizing  the  glass,  swept 
the  shore  with  a  slow  movement  of  her  slender  person  from 
right  to  left. 

"  Nary  a  pusson  coming,"  she  said,  laying  down  the  glass, 
with  a  disappointed  air. 

"  Don't  talk,"  snapped  Clorinda,  snatching  up  the  glass 
and  levelling  it  fiercely  at  the  ocean.  "  Jes  like  yer,  now 
— can't  see  yer  hand  afore  yer  face.  There's  a  boat  put 
inter  the  cove  whilst  jrer  was  looken,  and  here  am  Caleb 
Benson." 


54  A     BALL      IN      THE     BASEMENT. 

"So  thar  am,"  cried  Victoria,  snatching  the  glass, 
"  acomin'  full  split  across  the  rnedder.  Now  for  it !  " 

The  lithe  limbed  mulatto  gave  a  hop  on  to  the  portico, 
and  another  bound  to  the  soft  grass  of  the  lawn,  whence 
she  ran,  like  a  deer,  to  meet  our  sea-loving  friend,  with  the 
high  shoulders,  who  was  crossing  towards  the  house  at  a  far 
brisker  pace  than  was  usual  to  him. 

"  Hav  yer  give  the  iustergations  ?  "  cried  Victoria,  out 
of  breath  with  swift  running.  "  Am  the  folks  a  coming  to 
our  party  ?  " 

Caleb  looked  wonderfully  grave,  and  attempted  to  shake 
his  head ;  but  Vic  saw,  by  the  gleam  in  his  eyes,  that  it 
was  all  pretence,  and  clapping  her  hands  like  a  little  gypsy 
as  she  was,  dashed  into  a  break-down  on  the  grass,  calling 
out,  "  Hi,  dic-a-dory,  I  told  yer  so — I  told  yer  so  ! " 

"  Well,  what  am  all  dis  muss  'bout  ?  "  exclaimed  Clo- 
rinda,  sailing  out  to  the  lawn  with  a  broad  straw  flat  over 
shadowing  her  like  an  umbrella.  "  Well,  Caleb,  I  'low 
ebbery  ting  am  pernicious  'bout  de  party." 

Caleb,  who  was  an  old  fisherman,  reared  at  Cape  Cod, 
and  not  to  be  put  out  of  his  way  easily,  occupied  plenty  of 
time  before  he  answered.  The  afternoon  was  warm,  so  he 
took  the  oil-cloth  cap  from  his  head,  and  wiped  its  baldness 
vigorously  with  an  old  silk  handkerchief.  Then  he  depos 
ited  the  handkerchief  in  the  crown  of  his  cap,  and  settled 
himself  into  his  garments  with  a  shake,  sailor  fashion. 

Clorinda's  broad  flat  vibrated  with  its  wearer's  impati 
ence,  and  Victoria  was  stamping  down  the  grass,  and  men 
acing  the  old  man  with  her  fist  during  the  whole  of  his 
slow  performance. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  now." 

"  Wai,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  they're  all  a  com 
ing,  especially  from  Squir  Khodes.  Miss  Jemima  wasn't 
willing  at  first,  but  the  Squir  sot  in  and  said  his  colored 
people  hadn't  much  chance  for  fun  anyhow,  and  shouldn't 
be  kept  back  from  what  come  along  in  a  nat'ral  way." 


A     BALL     IN      THE      BASEMENT.  55 

"  Squir  B/hodes  was  ales  a  pussou  as  I  s'pected/'  said 
Clorinda.  "  Let's  see  how  many  of  'ein  will  count  up." 

She  made  rather  bungling  work  in  counting  her  fingers, 
going  over  them  three  or  four  times,  and  getting  terribly 
puzzled  in  the  end. 

In  the  midst  of  her  confusion,  Victoria  gave  a  little  cry 
of  dismay,  and  made  a  rush  for  the  house,  where  she  fran 
tically  tore  off  her  apron  and  tucked  it  under  one  of  tho 
hall  mats. 

Clorinda,  filled  with  indignation  by  this  strange  proceed 
ing,  turned  in  search  of  the  cause,  and  lo  !  there  w.as  Dolf, 
Mr.  Mellen's  own  man,  crossing  the  lawn,  with  two  other 
gentlemen  of  color,  evidently  from  the  city. 

Clorinda  snatched  the  broad  straw  flat  from  her  head, 
and  began  to  arrange  her  Madras  turban  with  botli  hands, 
thus  unhappily  exposing  some  tufts  of  frosty  gray  that  had 
managed  to  creep,  year  after  year,  into  her  wool.  After 
this  rather  abrupt  toilet,  she  drew  herself  up  with  a  grand 
air,  and  marched  forward  to  receive  the  strangers  in  a  glori 
ous  state  of  self-complacency. 

"  Mr.  Dolf,  yer  welcome  as  hot-house  peaches — and  these 
gemmen,  may  I  'quest  an  interdiction  ?  " 

Dolf  had  just  been  informing  his  companions  that  the 
lady  approaching  them  was  not  to  be  sneezed  at  in  any 
particular  whatever,  as  she  ruled  the  roost  of  Piney  Cove, 
and  had,  everybody  said,  laid  up  lots  of  rocks  ;  besides,  as 
for  cooking — well,  he  said  nothing,  it  was  not  necessary ; 
they  would  see  what  Clorinda  was  in  that  line  when  the 
supper  came  on.  She  had  learned  down  South  where 
people  knew  how  to  live. 

This  speech  prepared  the  strangers  to  receive  their  sable 
hostess  with  great  distinction,  and  when  she  launched  a 
stupendous  courtesy  at  them  id*  acknowledgment  of  their 
elaborate  bows,  the  mutual  admiration  that  sprang  up 
among  the  whole  group  then  and  there,  was  ail  oasis  in 
the  desert  of  human  nature. 


56  A     BALL      IN      THE      BASEMENT. 

"  Miss  CloriDda — Mr.  Sparks,  of  the  Metropolitan  Hotel ; 
Mr.  Hannibal,  private  attendant  of  an  upper-crust  gentle 
man,  who  is  going  to  stop  at  the  Sailor's  Safe  Anchor, 
fishing  and  shooting." 

Cloriuda  had  just  recovered  herself  from  one  courtesy, 
but  she  took  the  wind  in  her  garments  and  fluttered  off 
into  a  couple  more  without  loss  of  time. 

"  I  'low  de  neighborhood  am  obligated  to  any  gemmen 
as  brings  sich  pussons  inter  de  serciety  ob  Piney  Cove.  If 
yer  hasn't  had  deceived  an  invite  from  Mr.  Benson,  dat 
white  pusson  yer  sees  up  yunder,  remit  me  de  ferlicity." 

Clorinda  took  two  buff  envelopes  from  her  bosom  as  she 
spoke,  and  gave  them  to  Mr.  Sparks,  of  the  Metropolitan, 
and  Mr.  Julius  Hannibal,  private,  with  a  smile  that  flitted 
across  her  face  like  smoke  from  a  furnace. 

"  It  speaks  ob  pumps  and  yeller  gloves  as  bein'  indis- 
penserable,  but  dem  as  comes  promiscus  as  yer  friends  dus, 
Dolphus,  can't  be  spected  ter  imply." 

The  gentlemen  smiled  in  bland  thankfulness,  exhibiting 
a  superb  display  of  wory  and  second-hand  white  kids  in 
the  operation. 

"You  did'nt  expect  me,"  whispered  Dolf,  joining  Cloriri- 
da  when  she  turned  to  conduct  the  party  to  the  house, 
"  but  the  hart  will  pant  after  clear  water.  I  couldn't  stand 
it  three  days  longer ;  so  when  the  master  told  me  to  come 
over  and  see  that  every  thing  was  ready,  I  jumped  at  it. 
Hope  you're  not  offended  at  my  bringing  these  fellows  ?  " 

"'Fended!"  exclaimed  Clorinda,  stepping  upon  the 
grass  as  if  it  had  been  egg-shells,  that  she  had  resolved  not 
to  crush.  "When  was  yer  Clo  ebber  fended  wid  yer, 
Dolphus  ?  " 

"Poor  fellows,"  said  Dolf,  looking  back  at  his  friends, 
"  They  see  my  ferlicity  and  are  ready  to  burst  with  envy." 

"  Am  dey  ?  "  exclaimed  Clorinda,  bridling — "  poor  souls ; 
but  no  pusson  can  be  spected  to  cut  up  inter  half  a  dozen, 
so  doy  am  bound  ter  suffer." 


A     BALL      IN      THE      BASEMENT.  57 

The  whole  group  had  reached  the  front  portico  by  this 
time.  Vic,  who  had  stolen  behind  the  hall-door  and  stood 
watching  their  approach  through  the  crevice,  came  forth 
now,  blushing  till  the  golden  bronze  on  her  cheeks  burned 
red.  Clorinda  flamed  up  at  the  sight. 

"  What  hab  yer  done  wid  yer  apron,  chile  ?  jes  march 
right  'bout  an'  get  it  ter  once.  Who  ebber  hearn  bout  a 
chi]e  ob  yer  age  widout  apron  ?  " 

Victoria's  black  eyes  flashed  like  diamonds  ;  she  drew 
aside,  leaning  against  the  wall,  with  the  grace  of  a  bronze- 
figure,  half-frightened  out  of  her  wits,  but  defiant  still. 
What  right  had  Clorinda  to  tell  about  her  apron,  or  drive 
her  down  stairs?  She  cast  an  imploring  glance  at  Dolf, 
but  he  looked  resolutely  away. 

"  Come  in,  gemmen,  out  ob  sight  ob  dis  obstinit  chile," 
cried  Clorinda,  almost  sweeping  poor  little  Vic  down  with  a 
flourish  of  her  skirts. 

"  No,"  interposed  gentlemanly  Dolf,  who  had  a  genius  for 
keeping  out  of  storms.  "  The  gentlemen  were  just  saying, 
as  we  came  up,  how  much  they  would"  like  a  walk  towards 
the  woods.  So  with  your  permission,  Miss  Clorinda,  we 
will  leave  you  to  the  feminine  duties  of  the  toilet  j  though 
beauty  when  unadorned  is  most  adorned." 

"  'Cept  when  de  gray  hairs  will  peek  out.  Hi !  hi !  look 
dar ! " 

These  audacious  words  were  uttered  by  Victoria,  whose 
pouting  wrath  could  no  longer  be  restrained. 

The  two  city  gentlemen  fell  to  examining  their  gloves 
with  great  earnestness.  Dolf  made  a  hasty  retreat  through 
the  door,  calling  on  them  to  follow  him,  and  Clorinda 
left  five  handsomely  defined  finger-marks  on  Victoria's  hot 
cheek  before  she  darted  off  to  a  looking-glass,  and  fell  into 
a  great  burst  of  tears  over  the  state  of  her  treacherous 
turban. 

"Now,"  said  Vic,  gathering  herself  up  from  the  wall,  and 


58  A     BALL      IN      THE      BASEMENT. 

rubbing  her  cheek,  down  which  great  hot  tears  were  leaping 
with  passionate  violence — "  Now  I'se  gone  and  done  it, 
sure  ;  she  won't  let  me — " 

"Vic!  Vic!" 

It  was  the  treacherous  voice  of  Dolf,  who  caine  stealing 
in  from  the  portico. 

"  Vic,  don't  be  so  audacious,  you  lovely  spitfire  ;  go  this 
minute  and  make  up  with  her,  or  we've  lost  all  chance  of 
that  new  cotillion  I  was  learning  you." 

"  I  can't !  I  won't !  "  burst  forth  the  pretty,  bronze 
fury,  stamping  down  the  mat  and  her  apron  under  it. 
"  She's  a— a— she's  fat  cattle,  thai- !  " 

Dolf  snatched  the  little  sprite  from  the  rug,  and  stopped 
her  mouth  with — no,  it  wasn't  with  his  hand.  And  I'd 
rather  say  no  more  about  it. 

Five  minutes  after,  Victoria  went  demurely  in  search  of 
Clorinda,  found  her  sitting  before  the  glass  in  utter  humili 
ation,  and  protested  that  the  whole  thing  was  nonsense. 
That  she  hadn't  seen  a  gray  hair,  and  if  the  turban  was 
awry,  it  must  have  happened  when  Clorinda  ran  up  stairs 
in  such  hot  haste.  Victoria  was  sorry :  oh,  very,  very 
sorry.  Would  Miss  Clo  only  overlook  it  this  once,  and 
begin  to  dress  for  the  ball  ? 

Clorinda's  heart  swelled  like  a  rising  tide  under  Vic's 
hypocritical  condolence,  but  she  could  not  be  quite  con 
vinced  about  the  turban  ;  she  was  a  woman  of  resources, 
however,  and  felt  that  the  evil  was  not  without  its  remedy. 
So  she  kindled  an  immense  quantity  of  wax-lights,  crowded 
them  before  her  looking-glass,  and  at  once  commenced  the 
mysteries  of  a  full  toilet.  The  result  was  so  satisfactory 
when  she  took  a  survey  of  her  pink  barege  dress,  covered 
with  innumerable  small  flounces,  and  the  gorgeous  white 
gauze  scarf,  glittering  with  silver,  which  formed  a  turban, 
with  long  sweeping  ends  falling  to  the  left  shoulder — that 
she  melted  at  once  towards  the  girl  who  had  helped  to 
make  her  so  resplendent. 


A     BALL      IN      THE      BASEMENT.  59 

"  Jes  see  what  splendiferous  idees  that  chile  Miss  Elsie 
hab,  Vic/'  she  cried,  shaking  the  flounces  into  place  over 
her  enormous  crinoline.  "  Now  'serve  she  never  wore  dis 
sumptions  dress  more  en  once,  but  sent  it  down  here  good 
as  new;  'sides  de  turban,  jes  see  it  shine.  Yes,  Vic,  I 
forgives  yer,  so  don't  rub  dem  knuckles  in  yer  eyes  no 
more." 

Vic  darted  away,  and  in  a  marvellously  short  time  came 
back  glorious,  her  hair  braided  in  with  scarlet  ribbons,  and 
a  dress  of  several  gorgeous  colors  fluttering  with  every 
joyous  movement  of  her  slender  person.  She  was  plum 
ing  herself  before  the  glass  when  Clorinda  started  up. 

"  What  am  dat  ?  " 

"  Dat  ?  why  it  am  a  carriage.  Oh,  golly,  golly,  they'm 
coming,"  cried  Vic,  wild  with  delight ;  and  away  the  two 
darkies  went  down  the  great  staircase  and  into  the  hall, 
where  the  honors  of  the  house  were  extended  with  aston 
ishing  elegance. 

Two  or  three  wagons  sat  down  their  sable  loads,  and 
directly  the  sounds  of  a  brace  of  fiddles  rang  though  the 
basement  story,  and  the  laundry  floor  vibrated  to  the 
elastic  tread  of  dancers,  whose  natural  love  of  music  gave 
grace  and  spirit  to  every  movement.  The  two  fiddles 
poured  out  triumphant  strains  of  music,  and  in  every 
particular  Clorinda's  ball  was  a  success. 

At  last  Clorinda  disappeared  from  the  laundry,  and  Dolf 
followed  her  into  the  supper-room,  where  he  fell  into  rap 
tures  over  the  gorgeousness  of  the  table. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  housekeeper,  modestly,  "  but  how  am 
we  to  get  'long  without  wine ;  Marse  Mellen  carried  off 
de  keys,  and  without  dat — " 

"  Jes  look  here  ! "  cried  Dolf,  holding  up  a  key  which 
had  been  resting  in  his  pocket ;  "  catch  me  unprepared  j  1 
thought  about  the  wine." 

Clorinda  almost  embraced  Dolf  in  her  delight,  but  in  his 


60  THE      WEDDING. 

haste  to  reach  the  wine-cellar,  he  did  not  seem  to  observe 
the  demonstration. 

When  her  lover  came  back  with  his  arms  full  of  long- 
necked  bottles,  Clorinda's  happiness  was  supreme,  and 
directly  after  there  was  a  rush  of  feet  and  abrupt  silence 
with  the  two  fiddlers.  The  company  had  gone  in  to  supper. 

After  the  rush  and  bustle  had  subsided  a  little,  Dolf 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with  a  corkscrew 
in  one  hand  and  a  bottle  in  the  other." 

"  Oh,  my !  "  whispered  Virginia,  "  I  hope  dar's  lots  of 
pop  in  it." 

A  rushing  explosion,  and  the  rich  gurgle  of  amber  wine 
into  the  crowding  goblets  satisfied  her  completely. 

Dolf  lifted  his  glass  and  prepared  himself  for  a  speech. 

"  Ladies  of  the  fair  sect  and  gentlemen — " 

That  moment  Mr.  Julius  Hannibal,  who  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  crowded  towards  the  door,  stole  out  and  went 
softly  up  stairs.  With  the  stealthy  motion  of  a  cat,  he 
crept  along  the  hall  and  opened  the  front  door. 

A  man  came  out  from  the  shadows  of  the  portico,  and 
glided  into  the  hall.  It  was  Mr.  North,  Hannibal's 
master. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE      WEDDING. 

A  CROWD  of  carriages  stood  in  front  of  the  church^— a 
throng  of  richly-dressed  persons  filled  it,  with  such  life  and 
bustle  as  sacred  walls  never  witness,  save  on  the  occasion 
of  a  grand  wedding.  Mrs.  Harrington  had  done  her  pleas 
ant  work  famously.  Not  a  fashionable  person  among  her 
own  friends,  or  a  distinguished  one  known  to  bridegroom  or 
bride,  had  been  omitted.  Thus  the  stately  church  was 


T  H  E      W  E  D  D  I  N  G.  Gl 

crowded.  Snowy  feathers  waved  over  gossamer  bonnets ; 
lace,  glittering  silks,  and  a  flash  of  jewels  were  seen  on 
every  hand,  fluttering  in  the  dim  religious  light  around 
smiling  faces  and  gracefully  bending  figures. 

A  buzz  of  whispered  conversations  rose  from  nave  to  gal 
lery  ;  for  a  large  portion  of  that  brilliant  throng  had  never 
seen  the  bride,  and  curiosity  was  on  the  qiii  vive  regarding 
a  person  so  utterly  unknown  to  society,  who  had  carried  off 
the  greatest  match  of  the  season. 

In  one  of  the  front  pews  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Harrington 
was  sitting  with  a  group  of  her  own  confidential  acquain 
tances.  Of  course  she  knew  all  about  it,  and  could  tell 
them  why  Mr.  Mellen  had  chosen  a  wife  so  utterly  un 
known  to  their  set. 

Certainly  Mrs.  C.  knew  all  about  it — had  the  particulars 
from  her  sweet  friend,  Mrs.  Harrington,  who  was,  they  all 
knew,  a  sort  of  lady  patroness  to  the  affair.  Would  she 
tell  ?  Of  course — why  not  ?  There  was  no  secret  about  it 
now,  and  it  might  be  ten  minutes  before  the  bridal  party 
came  in. 

"  Well,  this  was  it.     Mr.  Mellen  was — " 

Oh  they  all  knew  about  Mr.  Mellen ;  he  had  been  in 
business  down  town  before  that  worthy  old  gentleman  his 
uncle  died,  and  left  him  so  enormously  rich  that  there  was 
no  guessing  how  many  millions  he  was  worth.  Did  they 
know  his  sister  ?  Of  course  :  what  a  sweet  pretty  creature 
she  was !  Strange  that  the  old  uncle  forgot  to  make  her 
an  heiress, — cut  off  a  relative  whom  he  had  almost 
adopted,  and  left  everything  to  Mellen,  who  did  not  expect 
it.  Sweet  Elsie  was  quite  overlooked,  and  had  nothing  on 
earth  but  her  beauty.  But  the  bride,  the  bride,  what 
about  her  ? 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  C ,  coming  out  of  this  storm  of 

whispers  smiling  and  flushed,  "  there  is  no  great  mystery 
in  the  bride.  Indeed,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  every- 


62  THE      WEDDING. 

thing  was  rather  commonplace — such  people  had  been  done 
up  so  often  in  romances  that  it  was  tiresome/' 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  was  that  eternal  gov 
erness  who  is  continually  travelling  through  magazines  and 
marrying  the  rich  young  gentleman  of  the  house?"  cried 
a  voice,  almost  out  loud. 

"  No,  no,  nothing  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  answered  Mrs. 

C ,  with  a  low  soothing  "  hush,"  and  shaking  her  head 

till  all  the  pink  roses  on  her  bonnet  fluttered  again.  "  She 
came  from  somewhere  in  New  England.  The  father  was 
thought  to  be  a  rich  man.  At  any  rate  he  gave  her  a 
splendid  education,  and  travelled  with  her  in  Europe  nearly 
two  years,  when  she  was  quite  a  missish  girl.  He  also  edu 
cated  her  cousin,  the  young  man  who  is  to  be  groomsman, 
and  gave  him  a  handsome  setting  out  in  life ;  but  when  the 
father  died  there  was  nothing  left — all  his  property  mort 
gaged  or  something — at  any  rate  Elizabeth  never  got  a 
cent,  and  her  cousin  would  have  been  poor  as  a  church- 
mouse  but  for  the  money  which  had  set  him  up  in  a  splen 
did  business.  He  wanted  to  make  that  over  to  her  at 
once." 

"  Generous  fellow  ! " 

"You  may  well  say  that,"  continued  Mrs.  C ,  hush 
ing  down  the  enthusiasm  of  her  friends  with  a  wave  of  her 
whitely  gloved  hand.  "  She  would  not  take  a  cent  of  his 
money,  but  came  here  to  the  very  school  where  she  had 
been  educated,  and  hired  out  as  a  teacher ;  it  is  said — but 
I  do  not  vouch  for  it — that  her  bills  at  the  school  were  left 
unpaid,  and  she  worked  the  debt  out." 

"  Is  it  possible  ! " 

"  Dear  me,  how  noble  !  " 

"But  how  did  she  get  acquainted  with  Mr.  Mellen  ?  " 
cried  a  third  voice ;  "  make  haste,  or  they  will  be  upon  us 
before  we  know  a  word  about  it." 

"  His  sister,  Miss  Elsie  Mellen,  was  a  pupil  in  the  school. 


T  H  15      W  E  D  D  I  N  G.  63 

Her  love  for  Miss  Fuller  was  perfect  infatuation.  The 
brother  worshiped  her — sweet  creature,  who  could  help  it  ? 
— and  so  the  acquaintance  began  in  the  parlor  of  a  board 
ing  school,  and  ends — Hush,  hush  !  " 

There  was  a  slight  commotion  at  the  door,  followed  by 
the  soft  rustling  of  silks  and  turning  of  heads.  Then  a 
gentleman  of  noble  presence,  calm  and  self-possessed,  as  if 
he  were  quite  unconscious  of  all  the  eyes  bent  upon  him, 
came  slowly  up  the  broad  aisle  with  the  object  of  all  this 
conversation  leaning  on  his  arm. 

Certainly  the  bride  gave  no  evidence  of  her  low  estate  in 
that  rustling  white  silk,  which  shone  like  crusted  snow 
through  a  sheen  of  tulle ;  or  in  the  veil  of  Brussels  lace 
that  fell  around  her  like  a  fabric  of  cobwebs  overrun  with 
frostwork.  You  could  detect  intense  emotion  from  the 
shiver  of  the  clematis  spray,  mingled  with  snowy  roses,  in 
her  black  hair ;  but  otherwise  she  seemed  quiet  and 
remarkably  self-sustained. 

Following  close  upon  this  noble  pair,  came  a  tall,  loose- 
jointed  young  man,  glowing  with  pride  of  the  lovely 
creature  on  his  arm  ;  and,  really,  any  thing  more  beautiful, 
in  a  material  sense,  could  not  well  be  imagined  than  that 
youthful  bridesmaid.  Like  the  stately  girl  who  had  passed 
before  her,  she  moved  in  a  cloud  of  shimmering  white,  with 
just  enough  of  blue  in  the  golden  hair  and  on  the  bosom  to 
match  the  violet  of  her  eyes. 

Once  or  twice  Tom  Fuller  missed  step  as  they  were  going 
up  the  aisle,  when  Elsie  would  make  a  pause,  look  ruefully 
at  her  gossamer  skirts,  and  only  seem  relieved  when  her 
partner  stumbled  into  place  again.  Then  she  followed  the 
bride,  her  cheeks  one  glow  of  roses  and  smiles  dimpling 
her  fresh,  young  mouth,  as  if  she  were  the  Queen  of  May 
approaching  her  throne. 

The  bridal-pair  knelt  at  the  altar,  and  a  solemn  stillness 
fell  upon  that  brilliant  multitude  as  the  vows  which  were  to 


64  T  H  IS      W  E  D  J)  1  JN  G. 

unite  that  man  and  woman  for  all  time  were  uttered. 
Even  Elsie  looked  on  with  shadowy  sadness  in  her  eyes ; 
as  for  Tom — the  noble-hearted  fellow  made  a  fool  of  himself 
of  course,  and  was  compelled  to  shake  the  tears  surrepti 
tiously  from  his  eyes,  hefore  he  dared  to  look  up  from  the 
long  survey  he  had  been  taking  of  his  patent-leather  boots. 

It  is  almost  frightful  to  remember  how  few  moments  it 
takes  to  bind  immortal  souls  together  in  a  union  which  may 
be  for  happiness,  and,  alas,  may  be  for  such  misery  as 
eternal  bondage  alone  can  give. 

The  feeling  of  awe  befitting  that  sacred  place  had  scarcely 
settled  on  the  gay  assembly,  when  the  altar  was  deserted, 
and  Grantley  Mellen  led  his  wife  out  of  the  church.  Agi 
tation  had  brought  a  faint  glow  of  color  to  her  cheek,  soft 
ened  the  mouth  into  its  sweetest  smile,  and  whenever  the 
clear  gray  eyes  were  lifted,  one  could  see  the  timid,  shrink 
ing  happiness,  which  made  their  depths  so  misty  and  dark. 

Grantley  Mellen  was  a  proud,  somewhat  stern  man,  and 
at  the  church-door  he  betrayed,  in  spite  of  himself,  some 
annoyance  at  the  eclat  which  Mrs.  Harrington  had  given  to 
the  affair,  in  spite  of  his  express  wishes.  But  whenever  he 
looked  at  the  lovely  girl  at  his  side,  or  felt  the  clinging 
touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  ar.m,  his  face  cleared  and  soft 
ened  into  an  expression  of  such  tenderness  as  changed  its 
entire  character. 

Elsie  followed  close,  dexterously  keeping  her  dress  from 
under  Tom's  feet ;  indeed,  she  looked  so  lovely  and  fairy- 
like,  that  it  made  the  awkwardness  and  embarrassment  of 
her  great,  honest-hearted  companion  more  apparent. 

Tom  Fuller  knew  that  he  appeared  dreadfully  out  of 
place  playing  a  part  at  this  imposing  ceremony,  but  he  had 
never  in  all  his  life  refused  a  request  that  Elizabeth  made, 
and  during  the  last  three  months,  the  mischievous  sprite  by 
his  side  had  kept  his  blundering  head  in  a  state  of  such 
constant  bewilderment,  and  so  stirred  every  chord  in  his 


THEWEDDING.  65 

great,  manly  heart,  that  he  would  not  have  minded  in  the 
least  stumbling  over  red  hot  ploughshares  for  the  pleasure 
of  walking  with  her  even  the  length  of  a  church  aisle. 

The  group  had  reached  the  porch  and  lingered  there  a 
moment,  waiting  for  the  carriages  to  draw  up.  The 
shadows  were  all  gone  from  Grantley  Mellen's  face  now ;  be 
bent  his  head  and  whispered  a  few  words,  that  made  Eliza 
beth's  cheek  glow  into  new  beauty.  Suddenly  her  glance 
wandered  towards  the  crowd  on  her  left — a  sudden  pallor 
swept  the  roses  from  her  cheek — her  hand  closed  convul 
sively  on  Mellen's  arm  ;  but  in  an  instant,  before  even  he 
had  noticed  her  agitation,  it  had  passed — she  walked  on  to 
the  carriage  graceful  and  queen-like  as  ever. 

Standing  among  the  throng  at  which  she  had  cast  that 
one  glance,  stood  the  man  who  had  rescued  her  from  danger 
only  a  few  days  before.  He  was  gazing  eagerly  into  the 
faces  of  the  newly  made  husband  and  wife,  with  an  ex 
pression  upon  his  features  which  it  was  not  easy  to  under 
stand.  But  after  that  quick  look,  Elizabeth  never  again 
turned  her  head,  and  the  stranger  shrank  back  among  the 
crowd  and  disappeared. 

The  guests  were  gathered  about  the  sumptuous  table 
which  Mrs.  Harrington  had  prepared,  and  the  fair  widow 
herself,  in  a  dress  which  would  have  been  youthful  even 
for  Elsie,  was  in  a  state  of  flutter  and  excitement  which 
baffles  description. 

She  was  gay  and  coquettish  as  a  girl  of  sixteen ;  but 
there  was  enough  of  real  kindliness  in  her  character  to 
make  those  who  knew  her  forgive  these  girlish  affecta 
tions  and  the  little  delusion  under  which  she  labored — 
that  certain  specially-favored  people,  like  herself,  never 
did  get  beyond  eighteen,  being  so  sensitive  and  fresh  of 
soul,  that  age  never  reached  them. 

I  doubt  if  there  ever  was  a  wedding  reception  that 
did  not  prove  a  somewhat  dull  affair,  and  though  this 
4 


66  THE     WEDDING. 

was  as  nearly  an  exception  as  possible,  Mellen  seized  the 
first  opportunity  to  whisper  Elizabeth  that  it  was  time 
to  prepare  for  their  departure. 

"  And  so  I  shan't  see  you  for  a  whole  week,"  said  Tom 
Fuller,  ruefully,  as  he  accompanied  Elsie  out  of  the  room, 
when  she  followed  Elizabeth  up  stairs  to  change  her  dress. 
"  What  shall  I  do  with  myself  all  that  time  ?  " 

"  A  whole  week  !  "  repeated  she,  laughing  merrily ;  "it's 
quite  dreadful  to  contemplate — I  only  hope  you  won't  die, 
and  put  poor  Bessie  into  mourning  before  the  honeymoon  is 
over." 

"  Oh,  you  are  laughing  at  me,"  said  Tom,  heaving  a  sigh 
that  was  a  perfect  blast  of  grief. 

"  How  can  you  fancy  that  ?  "  cried  Elsie  ;  "  I  thought  I 
was  showing  great  sympathy." 

"  You  always  do  laugh  at  me,"  urged  Tom,  "  and   it's* 
downright  cruel !     I  know  I  am  awkward,  and  always  do' 
the  wrong  thing  at  the  wrong  moment,  but  you  needn't  be 
so  hard  on  a  fellow." 

"There,  there  !  "  said  Elsie, patting  his  arm  as  she  might 
have  smoothed  a  great  Newfoundland  dog  ;  "  don't  quarrel 
with  me  now  !  Next  week  you  are  coming  down  to  Piney 
Cove,  and  you  shall  see  how  nicely  I  will  entertain  you." 

"  Shall  you  be  glad  to  see  me — really  glad  ?  "  pleaded 
Tom,  red  to  the  very  temples. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  cried  Elsie,  laughing;  "you  are  a  sort 
of  cousin  now — it  will  be  my  duty,  you  know." 

Elsie  danced  away,  leaving  him  to  pull  his  white  glove 
in  a  perplexed  sort  of  way,  by  no  means  certain  that  he  was 
satisfied  with  being  considered  a  relation,  and  treated  in 
this  cavalier  manner. 


THE      FIRST     CLOUD.  67 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE      FIRST      CLOUD. 

MRS.  HARRINGTON  had  run  up  stairs  for  an  instant,  and 
stopped  Mellen  and  his  bride  on  the  landing  for  a  few  last 
words. 

"  I  hope  you  are  satisfied,  Grantley,"  she  said  ;  "  I  have 
done  my  best ;  I  do  hope  you  are  pleased." 

"My  dear  friend,  everything  has  been  perfect,"  he  an 
swered. 

"  I  can't  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  me,"  Eliza 
beth  said,  holding  out  her  hand  ;  "  but  believe  me,  I  feel  it 
deeply." 

"  My  dear,  don't  speak  of  it !  Grantley  and  Elsie  are  like 
relatives  to  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  and  I  love  you 
so  much  already  !  You  looked  lovely — what  a  mercy  we 
came  off  so  well  from  our  fright — " 

"  There  is  no  time  for  pretty  speeches,"  broke  in  Elsie, 
giving  her  a  warning  glance,  and  pulling  Elizabeth  towards 
their  dressing-room  ;  "  go  back  to  your  guests,  Mary  Har 
rington  ;  what  will  they  do  without  you.  Besides,  you 
must  cover  our  retreat.  We  don't  want  to  be  stared  at 
when  we  go  out." 

But  Mellen  stood  still  after  they  had  entered  the  cham 
ber,  and  detained  Mrs.  Harrington. 

"  What  fright  ?  "  he  demanded  ;  "  what  did  you  mean  ?  " 

She  was  too  thoroughly  confused  to  remember  her 
promise. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  ! "  she  said ;  "  I  have  sold  the 
horses,  so  it  doesn't  make  any  difference." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Have  you  had  an 
accident  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  the  gentleman  saved  us — such  a  splendid  crea- 


68  THE      FIRST      CLOUD. 

ture  !  But  it  was  so  odd.  The  moment  Elizabeth  looked 
in  his  face  she  fainted  dead  away — courageous  as  a  lion  till 
then — just  like  a  novel,  you  know.  But  she  said  she  never 
saw  him  before  ;  it  was  really  quite  interesting." 

Grantley  Mellen  turned  suddenly  pale  ;  doubt  and  suspi 
cion  had  been  his  familiar  demons  for  years,  and  it  never 
required  more  than  a  word  or  look  to  call  them  up. 

He  controlled  himself  sufficiently  to  speak  with  calmness, 
and  Mrs.  Harrington  was  not  observant ;  but  he  did  not 
permit  her  to  return  to  her  guests  until  he  had  heard  the 
whole  story. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  she  entreated  ;  "  I  promised  Eliza 
beth  not  to  tell ;  she  thought  you  would  be  frightened,  and 
perhaps  displeased." 

Mrs.  Harrington  hurried  down  stairs,  and  Mellen  passed 
on  to  the  chamber  which  had  been  appropriated  for  his  use. 
But  his  face  had  not  recovered  its  serenity,  and  Master 
Dolf,  who  presided  over  his  toilet,  did  not  at  all  approve 
of  such  gravity  on  a  man's  wedding-day  —  having  drank 
quite  champagne  enough  in  the  kitchen  to  feel  in  as  exu 
berant  spirits  as  was  desirable,  himself. 

The  leave-takings  were  over ;  Tom  Fuller  had  given 
his  last  tempestuous  sigh  as  Mellen  drove  off  with  his 
sister  and  his  bride  towards  the  home  where  they  were 
to  begin  their  new  life. 

The  journey  was  not  a  tedious  one ;  the  swift  train 
bore  them  for  a  couple  of  hours  along  one  of  the  Long 
Island  railroads,  to  a  way  station,  where  a  carriage  waited 
to  carry  them  to  the  quiet  old  house  in  which  they  were 
to  spend  the  honeymoon. 

There  was  to  be  no  journey,  both  Mellen  and  Elizabeth 
wished  to  go  quietly  to  the  beautiful  spot  which  was  to  be 
their  future  home,  and  spend  the  first  weeks  of  their  hap 
piness  in  complete  seclusion. 

The  drive  was  a  charming  one,  and  the  brightness  of 


THE      FIRST      CLOUD.  69 

the  Spring  day  would  have  chased  even  a  deeper  gloom 
from  Mellen's  mind  than  the  shadow  which  Mrs.  Har 
rington's  careless  words  had  brought  over  it. 

From  the  eminence  along  which  the  road  wound,  they 
caught  occasional  glimpses  of  the  silvery  beach  and  the 
long  sparkling  line  of  ocean  beyond ;  then  a  sudden 
descent  would  shut  them  out,  and  they  drove  through 
beautiful  groves  with  pleasant  homesteads  peeping  through 
the  trees,  and  distant  villages  nestled  like  flocks  of  birds 
in  the  golden  distance. 

The  apple-trees  were  in  blossom,  and  the  breeze  was 
laden  with  their  delicious  fragrance ;  the  grass  in  the 
pastures  wore  its  freshest  green,  the  young  grain  was 
sprouting  in  the  fields,  troops  of  robins  and  thrushes 
darted  about,  filling  the  air  with  melody,  and  over  all 
the  blue  sky  looked  down,  flecked  with  its  white,  fleecy 
clouds.  The  sunlight  played  warm  and  beautiful  over 
this  lovely  scene,  and  through  the  early  loveliness  of  the 
season,  the  married  pair  drove  on  towards  their  new  life. 

At  a  sudden  curve  in  the  road,  they  came  out  full  upon 
the  ocean,  and  Elizabeth,  unacquainted  with  the  scene, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  wonder  at  its  dazzling  loveliness. 

Below  them  stretched  a  crescent-shaped  bay,  with  a  line 
of  woodland  running  far  out  into  the  sea ;  away  to  the 
right,  at  the  extremity  of  the  bay,  a  little  village  peeped 
out ;  its  picturesque  dwellings  were  dotted  here  and  there, 
giving  a  home  look  to  the  whole  scene.  At  the  end  of 
the  shady  avenue  into  which  they  had  turned,  the  tall 
roofs  and  stately  towers  of  the  Piney  Cove  mansion  were 
visible  through  the  trees. 

"  The  dear  old  house  ! "  cried  Elsie,  clapping  her  hands. 
"The  dear  old  honse!" 

Grantley  Mellen  was  watching  his  wife,  and  a  pleased 
smile  lighted  his  face  when  he  saw  how  thoroughly  she 
appreciated  the  beauty  of  the  place.  He  did  not  speak, 


70  THE      FIRST     CLOUD. 

but  clasped  her  hand  gently  in  his,  and  held  it,  while 
Elsie  uttered  her  wild  exclamations  of  delight.  They 
drove  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  house. 

"  Welcome  home ! "  exclaimed  Mellen,  and  his  face 
glowed  with  tenderness  as  he  lifted  his  wife  from  the  car 
riage  and  conducted  her  up  the  steps,  Elsie  following,  and 
the  servants  pressing  forward  with  their  congratulations, 
headed  by  Clorinda  :  and  for  the  first  few  moments,  Eliza 
beth  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  a  pleasant  confusion. 

From  the  hall  where  they  stood,  she  could  look  out  upon 
the  ocean  which  rolled  and  sparkled  under  the  sunshine.  She 
could  even  hear  the  waves  lapsing  up  to  the  grounds  which 
sloped  down  to  the  water's  edge  in  a  closely  shaven  lawn, 
broken  by  stately  old  trees  and  blossoming  flower-beds. 
The  view  so  charmed  her  with  its  loveliness,  that  at  first 
she  hardly  heeded  the  magnificence  of  the  different  apart 
ments  through  which  they  led  her. 

There  were  quaint,  shadowy  old  rooms,  full  of  odd  nooks 
and  corners,  and  heavy  with  antique  furniture,  where  one 
could  idle  away  a  morning  so  pleasantly  ;  and  in  the  modern 
portion  of  the  dwelling,  a  long  suite  of  drawing-rooms, 
with  a  library  beyond,  which  had  been  fitted  up  with  every 
luxury  that  wealth  and  refined  taste  could  devise. 

"Be  happy,"  Grantley  Mellen  whispered,  when  his  wife 
tried  to  find  words  to  express  her  delight.  "  Be  happy — 
peace,  rest  and  affection  is  all  I  ask." 

He  looked  in  her  face,  eager  for  the  smiling  surprise 
which  he  had  expected  to  find  there.  It  was  sadly  grave. 
She  too  had  her  after  thought. 


THE    BRIDE'S    WELCOME    HOME.         71 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
THE  BRIDE'S  WELCOME  HOME. 

ELSIE  took  Elizabeth  up  the  broad  flight  of  steps  which 
led  from  the  hall,  and  conducted  her  to  the  suite  of  rooms 
that  had  been  prepared  for  her  reception.  "I  had  them 
arranged  close  to  my  little  nest/'  she  said,  "  because  I 
knew  Grantley  would  never  be  content  unless  I  was  within 
call.  I  hope  you  will  like  them,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

Elizabeth  answered  that  they  were  beautiful,  as  indeed 
they  were.  But  it  was  a  grand,  lonely  splendor  that  she 
looked  upon,  which  almost  chilled  her.  The  chamber  was 
large  and  richly  furnished.  Every  thing  was  massive  and 
costly.  The  carpet  soft  as  a  flower-bed  and  as  brilliant  in 
tints.  Wherever  she  turned,  her  eyes  fell  on  exquisite 
carvings  reflected  by  limpid  mirrors ;  curtains  of  richly 
tinted  satin  shut  out  a  perfect  view  of  the  ocean,  and 
Elizabeth  could  not  help  remarking  that  the  principal 
windows  faced  northward,  away  from  the  bloom  and  glory 
of  the  grounds.  Even  her  dressing-room,  which  was  in  one 
of  the  octagon  towers,  looked  out  on  the  only  barren  spot 
in  view — a  storm-beaten  grove  of  cedars  that  stood,  ragged 
and  bristling  with  dead  limbs,  on  the  beach. 

Spite  of  herself,  Elizabeth  was  chilled.  She  loved  the 
morning  sunshine  like  a  worshiper,  and  felt  as  if  all  the 
grandeur  which  surrounded  her  was  shutting  it  out  from 
her  own  portion  of  this  new  home. 

"  Did  Mr.  Mellen  arrange^these  rooms  ?  "  she  asked  in 
a  faltering  voice.  "  Was  it  his  taste  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  not  at  all,"  answered  Elsie.  "  He  exhausted 
himself  in  fitting  up  my  snuggery.  The  rest  was  left  to  me. 
I  had  carte  blanche,  you  know,  as  to  money ;  and  it  was 
splendid  fun  going  about  and  ordering  things.  Don't  you 
remember  how  much  I  used  to  be  away  from  school  ?  " 


72         THE    BRIDE'S    WELCOME    HOME. 

Elizabeth  smiled,  and  made  an  effort  to  appear  thankful 
and  pleased. 

"  See  what  close  neighbors  we  are,"  said  Elsie,  lifting  a 
curtain  that  seemed  to  drape  a  window,  but  revealing  a 
door  which  she  pushed  open. 

Elizabeth  stepped  forward,  and  in  contrast  with  the  rich 
gloom  of  her  own  chamber,  saw  a  suite  of  the  brightest, 
sunniest  rooms,  that  ever  a  capricious  beauty  inhabited. 

The  dressing-room  which  she  entered,  was  hung  with 
bright,  cerulean  blue,  overrun  with  what  seemed  to  be  a 
delicate  pattern  of  point-lace.  The  carpet  was  thick,  soft, 
and  almost  as  white  as  ermine,  with  a  tangled  vine  of 
golden  water-lilies  and  broad,  green  leaves  running  over  it, 
as  if  the  water  they  grew  in  had  been  crusted  with  snow, 
and  the  blossoms,  soft,  fresh,  and  bright,  frozen  upon  the 
surface.  The  couch,  easy-chair,  and  general  furniture,  were 
of  polished  satin-wood,  cushioned  with  delicate  azure  silk 
shot  and  starred  with  silver.  A  luxurious  number  of 
silken  cushions  lay  upon  the  couch,  chairs,  and  even  on  the 
floor ;  for  two  or  three  were  heaped  against  the  pedestal,  on 
which  a  basket  of  flowers  stood,  and  upon  them  lay  a  guitar, 
with  its  broad,  pink  ribbon  hanging  loose.  Every  table 
was  loaded  with  some  exquisitely  feminine  object  of  use  or 
beauty,  till  the  very  profusion  was  oppressive,  light  and 
graceful  as  every  thing  was. 

Two  of  the  windows  were  open,  and  their  lace  curtains 
held  back,  one  by  a  marble  Hebe  that  mingled  her  cold 
stone  flowers  with  the  lace ;  the  other  by  a  Bacchante, 
whose  garland  of  snow-white  grapes  was  seen  dimly, 
through  the  transparent  fold*  it  gathered  away  from  the 
glass." 

Through  these  open  windows  came  glimpses  of  the 
flower-garden,  green  slopes  on  the  lawn,  and  farther  off 
the  wind  swept  up  perfumes  from  a  distant  orchard,  and 
sifted  it  almost  imperceptibly  through  the  delicate  net- 


WELCOME      HOME.  73 

work  of  the  curtains.  Back  of  this  boudoir  was  a  bed 
chamber,  and  beyond  that  a  dressing-room.  Elizabeth 
could  see  through  the  open  door  a  bed  with  hangings  of 
blue  and  white,  with  all  the  objects  of  luxury  which  could 
please  the  taste  of  a  pampered  and  fanciful  girl. 

"  Grantley  chose  these  rooms  for  me  long  ago,  before  he 
went  to  Europe,"  said  Elsie,  looking  around  with  quiet 
complacency.  "He  would  not  hear  of  my  giving  them 
up ;  besides,  I  knew  you  would  like  something  a  little 
darker  and  more  stately/'  she  said.  "  Are  you  pleased  with 
the  house,  Bessie  ?  " 

"Very,  very  much.  I  did  not  expect  any  thing  so  mag 
nificent,"  she  answered.  "  It  overpowers  me." 

"  I  had  not  seen  it  for  years,"  said  Elsie,  "till  I  came 
down  with  Grant  to  decide  about  the  new  furniture.  Now 
you  must  be  happy  here.  You  ought  to  be  !  Just  contrast 
this  place  with  that  old  barn  of  a  school  j  it  makes  one 
shudder  to  think  of  it !  You  must  be  happy,  Bessie,  for  I 
hate  discontented  people." 

"I  trust  so,  dear;  I  believe  so;  we  shall  all  be  happy." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  help  it,"  pursued  Elsie ;  "  Grant  is 
always  a  darling !  But  you  must  love  and  pet  me,  you 
know,  just  as  he  does." 

"  You  exacting  little  thing  ! "  said  Elizabeth,  lightly. 

"  Yes,  but  you  must,"  she  urged  ;  "  you  never  would  have 
had  all  this  but  for  me." 

"  No,"  murmured  Elizabeth ;  "  I  should  never  have 
known  Grantley  but  for  you." 

"  I  told  him  that  day,  you  know,  just  what  I  had  set  my 
heart  on,"  pursued  Elsie,  shaking  her  curls  about,  and 
chattering  in  her  careless,  graceful  way.  "  I  said  I  loved 
you  like  a  sister,  and  I  should  die  if  I  was  separated  from 
you.  That  settled  it." 

Elizabeth  had  seated  herself  in  a  low  chair,  with  her 
back  towards  the  window ;  she  looked  up  quickly  as  Elsie 
paused. 


74         THE    BRIDE'S    WELCOME    HOME. 

"  Settled  it  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Yes,  exactly  !  " 

Elsie  flung  herself  on  the  carpet  at  her  sister's  feet,  and 
caught  one  of  her  hands,  playing  with  the  wedding  ring  so 
lately  put  on  that  delicate  finger,  in  her  caressing  fashion. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth,  quietly,  though 
there  was  a  sudden  change  in  her  face  which  might  have 
struck  Elsie  could  she  have  seen  it.  "  Settled  it ;  how  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why  he  never  had  refused  me  anything  in  all  his  life," 
said  Elsie ;  "  it  was  not  likely  he  would  begin  so  late ! 
Nobody  ever  does  refuse  me  anything ;  now,  remember 
that,  Bess." 

"  Yes,  dear  !  So  you  told  Grantley  you  were  very  fond 
of  me — " 

"  And  that  I  wanted  him  to  marry  you — of  course  I 
did." 

It  was  only  Elsie's  childish  nonsense  ;  Elizabeth  felt  how 
foolish  it  was  to  heed  it,  and  yet  she  could  not  repress  a 
desire  to  question  further. 

"  That  was  long  after  he  came  home,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  had  written  him  all  sorts  of  things  ahout 
you  ;  and  you  remember  when  he  came  to  the  school  to 
visit  me,  how  I  made  you  go  down  without  telling  you  who 
was  there." 

"  Yes — I  remember." 

"  He  praised  you  very  highly,  and  I  told  him  what  a 
dear  you  were  ;  and  how  sad  it  was  for  you  to  have  lost  all 
your  fortune  and  be  obliged  to  teach." 

The  color  slightly  deepened  on  Elizabeth's  cheek ;  was  it 
possible  that  in  the  beginning  Grantley  Melleu  had  been 
interested  in  her  from  a  feeling  of  pity  and  commiseration  ? 

Her  engagement  had  been  a  brief  one ;  during  it,  the 
days  had  passed  in  a  constant  whirl  of  excitement  and  hap 
piness,  and  she  had  found  little  time  to  question  or  reflect : 


THE    BRIDE'S    WELCOME    HOME.        75 

up  to  the  last  hour  there  had  been  no  shadow  on  her  enjoy 
ment — she  had  resolutely  swept  aside  everything  but  her 
deep  happiness. 

But  it  was  strange  that  in  the  very  first  flush  of  her 
married  life  this  conversation  with  Elsie  should  come  up. 
She  knew  it  was  only  the  girl's  heedlessness  and  pretty 
egotism  that  made  her  talk  in  this  really  cruel  fashion,  she 
was  sure  of  that ;  still  her  nature  was  too  proud  and  self- 
reliant,  for  the  idea  that  Mellen  had  been  first  attracted 
towards  her  from  sympathy  at  her  lonely  condition,  to  be  at 
all  pleasant. 

But  Elsie  was  going  on  with  her  careless  revelations, 
playing  with  the  rings  which  Mellen  had  put  one  after 
another  on  those  delicate  fingers  during  their  engagement, 
making  each  one  precious  with  kisses  and  loving  words. 

"  So,  when  I  saw  how  sorry  he  was  for  you,  1  knew  that 
I  should  have  my  own  way.  I  longed  to  see  this  dear  old 
house  open  once  more  ;  it  had  been  given  up  to  the  servants 
ever  since  he  hurried  off  to  Europe ;  and  I  wanted  you  for 
my  companion  always,  you  darling." 

"  It  was  fortunate  for  your  wishes  that  Grantley's  heart 
inclined  in  the  direction  you  had  marked  out,"  said  Eliza 
beth. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Elsie  with  hasty  recklessness,  and  her 
usual  want  of  thought,  "  Grant  had  no  heart  to  give  any 
body ;  all  his  love  was  centred  on  me  ;  after  the  experience 
he  had  years  ago,  I  don't  suppose  he  could  ever  love  any 
woman  again — he  is  just  that  odd  sort  of  character." 

Elizabeth  gave  no  sign  of  the  blow  which  struck  her  this 
time  cruelly  on  the  heart ;  she  drew  her  hand  away  from 
Elsie,  lest  its  sudden  coldness  should  rouse  some  suspicion 
of  the  truth  in  the  girl's  mind,  and  asked  in  a  singularly 
quiet  voice — 

"  What  experience,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that,"  she  replied ;    "  I  am 


76        THE    BRIDE'S    WELCOME    HOME. 

always  letting  things   out  by  mistake  ;    Grant  would  be 
really  angry  with  me  ;  don't  ever  mention  it  to  him." 

"  I  will  not ;  but  what  experience  has  he  had  that  can 
prevent  a  husband's  giving  his  heart  even  to  his  own 
wife?" 

"  Dear  me,  I  oughtn't  to  tell  you  j  but  you'd  surely  find 
it  out  sometime  ;  only  promise  me  not  to  open  your  lips." 

"  I  promise,"  replied  Elizabeth,  a  cold,  gray  shadow  set 
tling  over  her  face,  out  of  which  all  the  bloom  had  faded. 

"  He  had  a  friend,  a  cousin  you  know,  that  our  rich  old 
uncle  had  partly  adopted,  whom  he  was  very,  very  fond  of," 
pursued  Elsie,  u  and  he  was  engaged  to  be  married  into  the 
bargain.  This  man  treated  him  dreadfully — ran  off  with 
the  girl  Grant  loved,  and  cheated  him  out  of  a  great  deal 
of  money — money  that  he  could  not  afford  to  lose,  for  he 
was  not  rich  then.  Grant  was  nearly  mad.  I  was  a  little 
thing,  but  I  remember  it  perfectly.  When  his  uncle  died 
he  sent  me  to  school,  and  started  to  Europe  ;  he  has  been 
there  all  these  four  long  years ;  but  his  cousin  was  punish 
ed  ;  his  uncle  gave  everything  to  Grant." 

And  of  all  this  grief,  this  disappointment,  he  had  never 
told  her  one  word.  Elsie  spoke  the  truth — he  had  married 
her  that  his  sister  might  have  a  companion,  and  his  house  a 
mistress. 

A  prouder  woman  than  Elizabeth  Mellen  never  existed ; 
but  she  sat  motionless  and  gave  no  sign,  while  her  brief 
dream  of  happiness  fell  crushed  and  broken  at  her  feet 
under  this  revelation. 

"There,"  cried  Elsie,  "that's  all,  so  don't  ever  think 
about  the  thing  again.  What  a  fortunate  creature  you 
are  !  how  happy  we  shall  be,  shan't  we,  dear  ?  " 

She  attempted  to  throw  her  arms  about  Elizabeth  in 
her  demonstrative  way,  but  the  woman  rose  quickly,  and 
avoided  the  caresses  which  would  have  stifled  her. 

"  It  is  time  to  dress,"   she  said  j  (l  I  am  going  to  my 


THE      BRIDE'S      WELCOME      HOME.  77 

She  passed  into  her  chamber  with  that  dreary  chill  at 
heart,  which,  it  seemed  to  her,  would  never  leave  it  again  \ 
How  could  she  endure  that  fearful  pang  of  humiliation  and 
self-abasement  that  wrung  her  soul,  and  would  grow  stronger 
with  every  proof  of  kindness  that  her  husband  could  give  ? 
No  love-— no  heart  to  give  her  under  all  .his  goodness 
and  attention.  She  kept  repeating  such  words  to  herself 

they  would  never  cease  to  ring  in  her  ears — there  could 

be  no  pleasure  so  entrancing  th'at  they  would  not  mar  it 
by  their  whispers— no  grief  so  deep  that  they  would  not 
torture  her  with  the  recollection  that  she  was  powerless  to 
comfort  or  aid  the  man  who  had  made  her  his  wife. 

But  she  must  bear  it  all  in  silence  ;  hers  was  one  of 
those  deep,  reticent  natures  which  could  resolve  on  a 
painful  thing  and  carry  out  her  determination  to  the 
very  end.  She  would  weary  him  with  no  sign  of  affection. 
The  playful  exactions  of  a  young  wife,  which  are  so 
pleasant  to  a  loving  husband,  must  be  carefully  avoided. 
He  must  be  allowed  to  endure  her  without  revolt  — not 
finding  her  much  in  his  way. 

That  was  the  first  thought  upon  which  she  settled,  even 
while  this  earliest  whirl  of  pain  and  tremble  made  her  head 
dizzy  and  her  heart  sick. 

She  heard  Elsie's  voice  ringing  out  in  a  gay  song  :  she 
went  mechanically  on  with  her  dressing,  listening  to  that  mer 
ry  song  in  the  midst  of  her  bewildering  thoughts  with  a 
dreary  feeling  of  desolation. 

If  she  could  have  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  her  new 
life,  and  died  without  further  trouble  or  pain  —  that 
became  her  one  thought  !  If  that  man  who  was  her 
husband,  and  his  sister  could  enter  the  room  and  find 
her  dead,  they  might  feel  regret  for  a  time,  but  very  soon 
even  her  memory  would  pass  away  from  that  old  house, 
and  out  of  their  hearts,  where  she  had  so  shallow  a  resting- 
place,  and  in  the  grave  she  might  find  quiet. 


78        COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     PINEY     COVE. 

Elsie  came  dancing  in,  and  exclaimed — 

"  Oh,  you  are  dressed !  I  hear  Grant  on  the  stairs. 
May  I  open  the  door  ?  " 

Elizabeth  was  seemingly  quiet,  but  the  change  in  her 
manner  would  have  been  apparent  to  any  one  less  self- 
engrossed  than  Elsie. 

"  Open  it,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  am  ready." 

Grautley  Mellen  entered  the  room,  and  led  them  both 
away  down  stairs;  but  he  felt  the  sudden  tremor  in  his 
young  wife's  hand,  the  sort  of  shrinking  from  his  side, 
and  his  suspicious  mind  caught  fire  instantly.  He  noted 
every  change  in  her  face,  every  sad  inflexion  in  her  voice, 
and  at  once  there  came  back  to  him  the  conversation  he 
had  held  with  Mrs.  Harrington. 

Could  Elizabeth  have  known  this  man  ?  Was  there  a 
secret  in  her  past  of  which  he  was  ignorant  ?  The  bare 
idea  made  his  head  reel ;  though  he  might  banish  it  from 
his  mind  for  a  season,  the  slightest  recurrence  would  bring 
it  back  to  torture  him  with  inexplicable  fear  and  dread. 

So  their  new  life  began  with  this  shadow  upon  it — a 
shadow  imperceptible  to  all  lookers  on,  but  lying  cold  and 
dim  on  their  hearts  nevertheless,  slowly  to  gather  substance 
day  by  day  till  it  should  become  a  chill,  heavy  mist,  through 
which  their  two  souls  could  not  distinguish  each  other. 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

COUSIN    TOM   VISITS     PINEY    COVE.  . 

GRANTLEY  MELLEN  was  still  a  young  man,  only  thirty- 
three,  though  the  natural  gravity  of  his  character,  increased 
by  certain  events  in  his  life,  made  him  appear  somewhat 
older. 


COUSIN     TOM    VISITS     PINEY     COVE.        79 

His  father  had  died  many  years  before,  and  as  Elsie  had 
told  his  bride,  an  uncle  had  left  him  in  the  possession  of  a 
fine  property,  which  had  increased  in  value,  till  he  was  now 
a  very  wealthy  man. 

His  mother  died  when  Elsie  was  a  girl  of  about  fourteen, 
and  on  her  death -bed  Grantley  Mellen  had  promised  to  act 
the  part  of  parent  as  well  as  brother  to  the  young  girl.  He 
had  never  once  wavered  in  his  trust,  and  the  love  and 
tenderness  he  felt  for  her  were  beautiful  and  touch-ing  to 
witness. 

He  was  never  suspicious,  never  severe  with  her,  though 
these  were  the  worst  failings  of  his  character.  Elsie  was 
to  be  treated  as  a  child  ;  be  petted,  and  indulged,  and 
allowed  to  live  in  the  sunshine,  whatever  else  might  befall 
himself  or  others. 

Although  her  health  was  good,  she  had  always  been 
rather  delicate  in  appearance,  and  that  made  him  more 
careful  of  her.  He  was  haunted  with  the  fear  that  she  was 
to  fade  under  their  family  scourge,  consumption,  though  in 
reality  she  was  one  of  those  frail  looking  creatures  who 
are  all  nerves — nerves,  too,  elastic  as  tempered  steel ;  and 
who  always  outlive  the  people  who  have  watched  them  so 
carefully. 

It  was  true  Grantley  Mellen  had  met  with  a  humiliating 
disappointment  in  his  early  youth,  which  had  embittered 
all  his  after  years,  and  increased  the  natural  jealousy  of  a 
reticent  disposition  almost  to  a  monomania.  These  were 
the  facts  of  his  history : 

He  had  a  college  friend  of  his  own  age,  a  cousin  twice 
removed,  whom  from  boyhood  he  had  loved  with  all  the 
strength  and  passion  which  made  the  undercurrent  of  his 
grave,  reserved  character.  He  had  helped  this  young  man 
in  every  way — befriended  him  in  college,  been  to  him  wha 
few  brothers  ever  are. 

The   time   came  when  Mellen  found  the  realization  of 


80        COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     PINEY     COVE. 

those  dreams  which  fill  every  youthful  soul :  he  loved,  with 
all  the  fire  and  intensity  of  a  first  passion.  His  cousin  was 
made  the  confidant  of  this  love ;  he  shared  Mellen's  every 
thought,  and  seemed  heartily  to  sympathize  with  his 
feelings. 

It  is  an  old  story,  so  I  need  not  dwell  upon  it.  Both 
friend  and  betrothed  wife  proved  false.  There  came  a  day 
when  Grantley  Mellen  found  himself  alone  with  a  terrible, 
misery,  with  no  faith  left,  no  trust  in  humanity  to  give  a 
ray  of  light  in  the  darkness  of  his  betrayal. 

The  friend  whom  he  had  trusted  eloped  with  his  affianced 
bride,  and  cheated  him  out  of  a  large  sum  of  money.  With 
that  sudden  treachery  and  bitter  grief,  Mellen's  youth 
ended. 

He  left  Elsie  at  school  and  went  away  to  Europe,  wan 
dering  about  for  years,  and  growing  more  saddened  and 
misanthropic  all  the  while. 

He  returned  at  last.  Elsie  was  eighteen  then.  She  had  a 
school-friend,  to  whom  she  had  been  greatly  attached ;  a 
girl  older  than  herself,  and  so  different  in  every  respect, 
that  it  was  a  wonder  Elsie's  volatile  character  had  been 
attracted  to  her,  or  that  her  liking  had  been  reciprocated. 

This  was  the  state  of  events  when  Mellen  returned  from 
Europe.  Elsie's  account  of  her  friend  interested  him  in 
the  unfortunate  girl.  When  he  made  her  acquaintance 
that  sympathy  deepened  into  a  feeling  which  he  had  never 
thought  to  have  for  any  woman  again, — he  loved  her,  and 
she  was  now  his  wife. 

It  was  a  restless,  craving  affection,  which  threatened 
great  trouble  both  to  himself  and  its  object.  He  had  no 
cause  for  jealousy,  but  his  suspicious  mind  was  always  on 
the  alert — he  was  jealous  even  of  her  friends,  her  favorite 
studies — he  wanted  every  look  and  thought  his  own,  yet 
he  was  too  proud  to  betray  these  feelings. 

Elizabeth's  character  was  not  one  easy  to  understand,  nor 


COUSIN      TOM      VISITS      PINEY      COVE.       81 

shall  I  enter  into  its  details  here.  The  progress  of  my 
story  must  show  her  as  she  really  was,  and  leave  you  to 
judge  for  yourself  concerning  it,  and  the  effect  it  had  upon 
her  life. 

She  was  singularly  reticent  and  reserved,  but  impetuous 
and  warm-hearted  beyond  any  thing  that  the  man  who 
loved  her  dreamed  of.  He  saw  her  gay,  brilliant,  fond  of 
society,  yet  apparently  content  with  the  quiet  life  he  was 
determined  to  lead.  Still  there  was  something  wanting. 
He  felt  in  the  depths  of  his  heart  that  he  was  not  master 
of  her  whole  being.  That  sometimes  his  very  kisses  seemed 
frozen  on  her  lips,  and  she  turned  from  his  protestations  of 
love  with  sad  smiles,  that  seemed  mocking  him.  And  she, 
alas,  the  woman  who  believes  herself  unloved  by  her  hus 
band,  is  always  in  danger — always  unhappy. 

The  first  weeks  of  this  strange  honeymoon  had  passed, 
and  Tom  Fuller  was  able  to  gratify  the  chief  desire  of  his 
honest  soul,  and  rush  down  to  the  island  to  bewilder  him 
self  more  hopelessly  in  the  spell  of  Elsie's  fascinations,  like 
a  great  foolish  moth  whirling  about  a  dazzling  light. 

She  had  never  scrupled  to  laugh  at  him  and  his  devotion, 
even  to  Elizabeth  herself;  but  just  now  she  was  not  sorry  to 
see  him.  The  stillness  of  the  house  and  the  seclusion  of 
those  slow  love  weeks,  was  not  at  all  in  unison  with  her 
taste,  and  she  was  already  regretting  that  Mellen  had  not 
allowed  her  to  accept  Mrs.  Harrington's  invitation  to 
remain  with  her  during  the  first  period  of  that  dreary 
honeymoon. 

Mellen  and  Elsie  were  standing  on  the  porch  when 
Fuller  drove  up  to  the  house,  and  dashed  in  upon  them  with 
such  an  outpouring  of  confusion  and  delight  that  it  might 
have  softened  the  most  obdurate  heart. 

"  I  couldn't  stop  away  another  day,"   he  cried,  wringing 
Mellen's  hand  till  it  ached  for  half  an  hour  after. 
5 


82        COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     PI  NET    COVE. 

"  We  are  very  glad  to  see  you,"  replied  Mellen  ;  "  very 
glad." 

"  I  am  much  obliged,  I'm  sure,"  exclaimed  Tom,  <{  and 
you're  just  a  trump,  that's  the  truth." 

"  I  suppose  that's  the  reason  you  keep  him  so  carefully  in 
your  hand,"  interposed  Elsie,  laughing. 

Tom  was  instantly  covered  with  confusion,  and  let  Mel- 
leu's  hand  drop.  He  knew  there  was  a  joke  somewhere,  but 
for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  see  where  it  come  in. 

"  You  are  beginning  to  laugh  at  me  before  you  have  even 
said  '  How  do  you  do  ?  ' "  cried  he,  ruefully. 

"  And  am  I  not  to  laugh  at  you,  if  I  please  ?  "  exclaimed 
Elsie.  "  Shake  hands,  you  cross-grained  old  thing,  and 
don't  begin  to  quarrel  the  moment  we  meet." 

Tom  blushed  like  a  girl  while  he  bent  over  the  little  hand 
she  laid  in  his,  holding  it  carefully,  and  looking  down  on  it 
with  a  sort  of  delighted  wonder,  as  if  it  had  been  some 
rare  rose-tinted  shell  that  his  fingers  might  break  at  the 
slightest  touch. 

But  Mellen  was  not  looking  at  them ;  he  stood  there 
wondering  if  this  man  could  have  been  of  any  consequence 
in  Elizabeth's  past.  Could  she  have  loved  him,  and  been 
prevented  from  marrying  him  in  some  way  ?  No,  it  was 
impossible  ;  he  felt,  he  knew  that  it  was  so ;  but  the  idea 
would  come  into  his  mind  nevertheless. 

"When  you  have  done  examining  my  hand,  Mr.  Tom 
Fuller,  please  give  it  back,"  said  Elsie.  "  It  don't  amount 
to  much,  but,  as  the  Scotchwoman  observed  of  her  clergy 
man's  head,  '  it's  some  good  to  the  owner.7  " 

Tom  dropped  the  little  hand  as  if  the  pink  fingers  had 
burned  his  palm. 

"  I'm  always  the  awkwardest  fellow  alive  ! "  cried  he, 
dismally.  "  And  how  is  Bessie,  dear  girl  ?  " 

Mellen  roused  himself. 

"  I  will  call  her,"  he  said ;  "  she  is  quite  well,  and  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you." 


COUSIN     TOM     VISITS    PINEY     COVE.          83 

He  went  into  the  house  in  search  of  his  wife,  and  Elsie 
began  to  tease  her  unfortunate  victim,  a  pastime  of  which 
she  never  wearied.  It  seemed  to  her  the  funniest  thing  in 
the  world  to  make  that  great  creature  blush  and  stammer, 
to  lead  him  on  to  the  perpetration  of  absurd  things,  to 
laugh  at  him,  to  bewilder  his  honest  head  j  for  any  pain 
he  might  suffer,  she  considered  it  no  more  than  she  did  the 
sorrows  of  a  Fejee  Islander,  or  the  chirp  of  her  canary. 

"  Have  you  come  down  here  prepared  to  be  agreeable  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  Remember,  I  expect  you  to  devote  yourself 
completely  to  my  service — to  wait  on  me  like  the  most 
devoted  of  knights." 

"  I'd  stand  on  my  head  if  you  asked  it,"  answered  Tom, 
impetuously. 

"How  deliciously  odd  you  would  look!"  cried  Elsie  j 
"  you  shall  try  it  some  day  ;  I  only  hope  it  won't  leave  you 
with  a  brain  fever,  but  then  it  could'nt,  Tom, — where  is  the 
capital  for  such  a  disease  to  come  from  ?  " 

"  You  may  tease  me  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Tom, 
"  if  you'll  only  say  you  are  glad  to  see  me." 

"Oh,  you  will  be  invaluable,"  replied  Elsie;  "I  was 
getting  bored  with  watching  other  people's  love-making. 
Can  you  row  a  boat  and  teach  me  to  play  billiards,  and  be 
generally  nice  and  useful  ?  " 

"  Just  try  me,  that's  all !  "  said  Tom. 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  I  shall  put  you  to  every  possible  use  ; 
you  may  be  quite  certain  that  your  position  will  not  be  a 
sinecure." 

"  Then  you'll  make  me  the  happiest  fellow  alive  !  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying;  you  don't 
know  what  your  words  mean,"  cried  Elsie,  with  one  of  her 
bewildering  glances. 

"  Indeed  I  do !     Oh,  Miss  Elsie,  if  j'ou  only  could — " 

Elsie  interrupted  him,  as  her  sister  came  out  on  the 
portico,  followed  by  Mellen.  "  There  is  Bessie !  " 


84        COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     PINEY     COVE. 

Elizabeth  was  rejoiced  to  see  honest  Tom ;  he  was  the 
only  relative  she  possessed,  arid  she  loved  him  like  a 
sister.  She  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  his  character, 
and  honored  him  for  the  sterling  goodness  concealed  by 
eccentricities  of  manner  which  made  iiim  so  open  to  laugh 
ter  and  misconception. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  ! "  cried  Tom,  shaking  hands  all 
round  again,  and  growing  redder  and  redder,  to  Elsie's 
intense  delight.  "  I've  been  like  a  fish  out  of  water  since 
you  all  came  away  ;  I  just  begin  to  feel  like  myself  again. 
Bessie,  old  girl,  are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"We  shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you,  Tom,"  Elizabeth 
said,  glancing  at  her  husband. 

"Indeed  we  shall/'  he  said;  "you  will  always  find  a 
room  at  your  service,  and  a  sincere  welcome." 

No,  Elizabeth  never  could  have  cared  for  him — the  idea 
was  simply  absurd — he  would  never  think  of  it  again, 
never ! 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  obliged  I  am,"  said  Tom, 
twisting  about  as  if  his  joints  were  out  of  order,  and  he 
was  trying  to  set  them  straight. 

"  Your  chamber  is  ready,"  said  Elizabeth  ;  "  we  expected 
you  to-day." 

"  He  doesn't  need  to  go  up  now,"  interposed  Elsie ; 
"  that  checked  coat  is  bewitching,  and  he  is  going  to  take 
me  out  to  row.  Come  along,  Don  Quixote — come  this 
instant ! " 

Elsie  ran  off,  and  he  followed,  obedient  as  a  great  New 
foundland  dog. 

Elizabeth  looked  after  them  a  little  sadly,  and  smothered 
a  sigh  of  anxiety.  She  saw  what  Elsie  was  so  heedlessly 
doing,  and  knew  Tom  well  enough  to  understand  how 
acute  his  sufferings  would  be  once  roused  from  his  entranc 
ing  dream. 

So  things  went  on  during  the  whole  time  of  his  stay,  and 


COUSIN      TOM      VISITS      PINEY      COVE.       85 

there  was  no  help  for  it.  Elsie  made  him  a  perfect  slave, 
and  Tom  no  more  thought  of  disputing  her  wildest  caprice, 
than  if  he  had' been  some  untutored  fawn,  made  captive  to 
the  spells  of  a  Dryad. 

Elsie  saw  plainly  enough  that  he  loved  her,  but  she 
regarded  that  part  of  the  affair  very  lightly.  She  was 
accustomed  to  being  loved  and  petted — it  was  her  right. 
The  idea  that  it  could  be  cruel  or  unprincipled  to  encourage 
this  young  fellow  as  she  did,  never  entered  her  mind.  In 
deed,  if  the  misery  she  was  bringing  upon  him  had  been 
pointed  out  to  her,  she  would  only  have  laughed  at  it  as  a 
capital  jest,  a  source  of  infinite  amusement. 

When  Tom  Fuller  went  back  to  town,  Elsie  was  taken 
with  a  strong  desire  to  visit  dear  Mrs.  Harrington.  Tom 
was  a  sort  of  cousin,  now,  and  would  make  a  capital  escort.. 
Besides,  she  was  sure  Grantley  and  Elizabeth  would  be 
much  happier  alone.  Perhaps  Mellen  thought  so  too.  At 
any  rate,  he  made  no  objections,  and  Elsie  went. 

The  husband  and  wife  were  alone.  The  days  were  so 
pleasant — those  long,  golden,  June  days  ! — they  might 
have  been  so  happy  in  the  solitude  of  that  beautiful  spot, 
but  for  the  chasm  which  lay  between  the  souls  of  these 
married  people,  scarcely  perceptible  as  yet,  but  widening 
every  hour  ! 

Elizabeth  watched  her  husband  incessantly.  She  tortur 
ed  every  evidence  of  affection  into  a  forced  kindness,  an 
attempt  to  hide  his  want  of  love  >  he  was  trying  to  make 
all  the  atonement  in  his  power,  to  give  her  everything  that 
could  make  life  pleasant,  except  the  place  in  his  heart 
which  was  her  right.  How  her  soul  revolted  against  the 
thought ! 

She  was  mortally  hurt  and  grieved  that  he  could  have 
deceived  her.  If  he  had  only  spoken  the  truth,  only  left 
her  to  decide  whether  she  could  be  content  to  accept  an 
outer  place  in  his  regard,  to  make  his  home  happy,  to  guard 


86        COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     P  I  N  E  Y.     COVE. 

and  cherish  his  sister — if  he  had  only  left  this  decision  in 
her  hands,  the  matter  would  have  worn  a  different  aspect. 

But  that  he  should  have  been  silent — that  even  now  he 
should  guard  his  secret,  practising  this  daily  deception,  and 
meaning  to  let  it  lie  between  them  all  through  life — was  a 
never-ceasing  thorn  in  her  heart. 

Mellen,  in  turn,  was  watching  her ;  watching  her  with 
that  morbid  suspicion  which  made  the  groundwork  of  his 
character.  Observant  of  the  change  in  her  manner,  and 
trying  always  to  account  for  it,  but  only  making  himself 
restless  and  anxious  to  no  purpose. 

He  had  loved  her,  he  did  love  her,  and  the  only  reason 
she  was,  as  he  supposed,  ignorant  of  the  humiliating  story 
of  his  past,  was  because  he  had  put  it  resolutely  out  of  his 
mind ;  and  it  hurt  his  pride  too  much  to  go  over  the  detail 
of  the  deceit  and  treachery  from  which  he  had  suffered, 
even  in  his  own  thoughts. 

Elsie's  absence  was  prolonged  to  a  fortnight,  and  when 
she  returned,  Mrs.  Harrington  and  Tom  Fuller  came  back 
with  her. 

The  girl  was  in  more  joyous  spirits  than  ever;  more 
bewitching  and  beautiful,  if  possible ;  and  Elizabeth  could 
see  plainly  that  Mellen's  love  for  her  fell  little  short  of 
absolute  idolatry. 

She  was  not  jealous.  If  Elsie  had  been  her  own  sister, 
she  could  not  have  become  more  attached  to  her  than  she 
had  grown  during  their  year  of  companionship.  But  it 
was  very  hard  to  see  of  what  love  her  husband  was  cap 
able,  and  to  remember  that  no  part  of  it  could  be  won  for 
her ;  that  between  her  soul  and  his,  rose  the  image  of 
that  false  woman,  whose  treachery  had  steeled  his  heart 
against  such  love  as  she  thirsted  for. 

Tom  Fuller  was  a  more  hopeless  lunatic  than  ever ;  but 
Elsie  had  begun  to  grow  impatient  of  his  devotion.  She 
often  treated  him  cruelly  now.  The  poor  fellow  bore  it  all 


COUSIN     TOM     VISITS     PINEY     GROVE.       87 

with  patience,  and  still  clung  to  his  beautiful  dream,  una 
ble  to  realize  that  it  was  a  baseless  delusion,  which  must 
pass  away  with  the  summer  that  had  warmed  it  to  its  prime. 
The  weeks  passed  on  with  all-seeming  pleasantness,  and 
in  many  respects  they  were  pleasant  to  both  husband  and 
wife,  though  the  secret  thoughts  in  the  minds  of  both, 
kept  them  aloof  from  the  perfect  rest  and  happiness  to 
which  they  had  looked  forward  during  that  brief  courtship. 
But  a  sudden  change  and  a  great  break  were  nearing 
their  lives,  and  unexpectedly  enough  they  came. 

Mellen  owned  a  large  mining  property  in  California,  an 
immense  fortune  in  itself,  and  ever  since  his  return  from 
Europe,  he  had  been  much  occupied  with  a  lawsuit  that 
had  sprung  up  concerning  the  title.  He  had  sent  out  his 
man  of  business,  but  the  case  did  not  go  on  satisfactorily, 
and  letters  came  which  made  his  presence  there  appear 
absolutely  imperative. 

He  could  not  take  his  wife  and  sister;  the  discomforts 
to  which  they  would  be  exposed,  the  dreadful  fears  where 
Elsie  was  concerned,  from  her  apparent  delicacy,  entirely 
prevented  that  idea. 

He  informed  them  that  he  might  be  obliged  to  go ;  he 
had  written  other  letters  by  the  steamer;  the  answer  he 
might  receive  would  decide. 

Elizabeth    pleaded    to  go  with   him,  but   Elsie   frankly 
owned   that   she   could   not   even   think  of  a  sea   voyage 
without  deathly  horror.     Mellen   pointed    out  to  his  wife 
the   necessity   there   was   that   she    should    remain   witl 
Elsie,  and  she  submitted  in  silence. 

«  He  married  me  to  take  care  of  her,"  she  thought ;    ' 
will  do  my  duty-I  will  stay.     Perhaps  this  absence  will 
change  him  :  but  no,  I  am  mad  to  hope  it.     Elsie  says  he 
never  changes.     That  woman's  memory  must  always  1 
between  his  heart  and  mine."     So  she  turned  to  her  d 
weary  path  of  duty,  and  gave  no  sign. 


88  SHADOWS      OF      A      SEPARATION. 

CHAPTER  X. 

SHADOWS    OF    A    SEPARATION. 

OCTOBER  comes,  and  scarcely  four  months  after  his 
marriage,  Mellen  was  compelled  to  leave  his  wife  and  home, 
it  might  be  for  a  year.  Elizabeth  grew  white  and  cold 
when  this  certainty  was  forced  upon  her,  yet  she  made  no 
protestation,  and  uttered  nothing  like  regret  or  complaint. 
Grantley  was  chilled  through  and  through  the  heart  by 
this.  He  had  been  so  lonely,  had  longed  for  the  warmth 
and  happiness  of  love  with  such  intense  yearnings,  that  her 
calm  stillness  wounded  him  terribly.  Was  she  of  marble? 
Would  nothing  kindle  affection  in  that  proud  heart  ?  Had 
he  married  a  beautiful  statue  ? 

No  wonder  Elizabeth  was  proudly  cold.  She  did  not 
believe  in  the  necessity  of  this  journey.  His  indifference 
had  grown  into  dislike,  she  thought,  and,  yielding  to  in 
evitable  repulsion,  he  was  going  away  to  avoid  her. 

But  Elsie  was  loud  in  her  expressions  of  grief.  She  had 
floods  of  tears  to  give — protestations  and  caresses  without 
end.  Her  sweet  voice  was  constantly  reproaching  Elizabeth 
for  want  of  feeling.  She  was  forever  hovering  about  her 
brother  in  atonement,  as  she  said,  for  his  wife's  coldness. 
But  the  roses  on  her  cheek  were  always  fresh,  and  her  blue 
eyes  never  lost  a  gleam  of  their  brightness,  while  Elizabeth 
grew  thin  and  white  beneath  the  withering  ache  of  a 
famished  heart. 

"  Oh,  the  desert  of  these  months  !  Oh,  my  God,  my 
God,  I  shall  perish  without  him  !  Alone  here — all  alone 
with  this  child — what  will  become  of  me  !  How  shall  I 
endure,  how  resist  this  wild  clamor  of  the  heart  ?  " 

Elizabeth  had  flung  herself  upon  the  couch  in  her  own 
room,  her  face  was  buried  iu  the  purple  cushion,  and  she 


SHADOWS      OF      A      SEPARATION.  89 

strove  to  smother  the  words,  which  sprang  out  of  a  terrible 
pain  which  had  no  business  in  that  young  heart.  As  she 
lay,  convulsed  and  sobbing,  on  the  couch,  the  door  opened, 
and  her  husband  caine  into  the  room.  The  thick  carpet 
smothered  his  footsteps,  and  he  stood  by  the  couch  before 
she  knew  it — stood  there  a  moment,  then  fell  upon  his 
knees,  and  softly  wound  his  arm  around  her. 

"  Elizabeth,  my  wife." 

She  started  up  with  a  cry ;  her  face  was  wet  with  tears  j 
her  large  grey  eyes  wild  with  sorrow.  He  lifted  her  to  his 
bosom,  put  back  the  thick  waves  of  hair  that  had  fallen  over 
her  face,  and  kissed  her  forehead  and  her  lips  with  gentle 
violence. 

The  pride  went  out  from  her  heart  as  she  felt  these 
passionate  kisses  rained  on  her  face.  She  clung  to  him, 
trembling  from  the  new  joy  that  possessed  her. 

"Is  it  for  me  that  you  are  weeping,  sweet  wife?  are  you 
sorry  to  part  with  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  you  are  my  life,  my  salvation." 

"  Ah,  how  hard  you  make  it  for  me  to  go !  " 

"  And  you  must  ?  you  must  ?  " 

"  It  is  inevitable  ;  my  duty  to  others  demands  it ;  but  it 
shall  not  be  for  long.'7 

The  door  of  Elsie's  boudoir  was  opened,  the  curtains 
held  back,  and  the  smiling  young  creature  looked  in. 
Elizabeth  saw  her,  struggled  out  of  her  husband's  arms, 
and  sat  with  the  wet  eyelashes  sweeping  her  cheek,  which 
was  hot  with  blushes. 

"Oh,  ho!  one  too  many,  am  I?"  she  cried,  entering 
without  ceremony.  "  Why,  sister  Bessie,  I  haven't  seen 
you  blush  so  since  that  day  when  Mrs.  Harrington  would 
insist  on  it  that  you  recognised  a  certain  person." 

Elizabeth  was  so  confused  by  the  sudden  rush  of  joy 
sweeping  through  her  whole  being,  that  she  did  not  remark 
this  speech  j  but  her  husband  did,  and  withdrew  his  arm 


90  S  H  A  D  O  W  8      OF     A      SEPARATION. 

gently  from  her  support.  She  looked  up,  and  saw  that  he 
was  changed  within  the  minute. 

"  I'm  glad  to  find  you  looking  so  amiable,"  said  Elsie, 
going  up  to  the  glass,  and  threading  her  curls  out  into 
fluffy  and  beautiful  confusion  ;  "  for  I've  thought  of  some 
thing  that  would  make  this  place  delightful,  just  as  you  are 
going  away,  Grant.  Besides,"  she  added,  looking  down 
and  coloring  a  little,  "people  will  get  such  ideas  into  their 
heads,  and  say  such  things.  It  is  quite  necessary  to  let 
them  see  how  very  happy  you  and  Bessie  are  together,  or 
they  never  will  believe  that  you  are  not  running  away 
from  her." 

"  What !  "  demanded  Mellen  almost  sternly,—"  What 
are  you  saying,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  dreadful ;  I've  been  crying  about  it  half  the 
night ;  but  a  splendid  ball,  or  something  of  that  sort,  will 
put  everything  on  velvet.  Nothing  like  champagne  and 
the  et  ceteras  to  stop  people's  mouths." 

"  A  ball !     Why,  Elsie,  what  is  your  mind  running  on  ?  " 

"The  idea  is  dreadful,  I  know;  and  just  as  you  are 
leaving  us,  when  every  moment  is  precious  as  a  grain  of 
gold.  But  it's  really  necessary.  If  you  go  off  without 
seeing  people,  Grant,  they  will  be  sure  to  say  that  you  and 
Bessie  have  quarreled,  and  all  sorts  of  horrid  things  about 
her  being  melancholy,  and  you — well  it's  no  use  repeating 
these  speeches,  but  the  ball  we  must  have.  Bessie  shall 
entertain  them  like  a  princess ;  as  for  poor  little  me,  I'm 
good  for  nothing  but  dancing." 

She  gave  a  waltzing  step  or  two,  and  whirled  herself 
before  the  mirror  again. 

"  Well,  who  shall  we  invite  ?  "  she  said,  gazing  at  the 
pretty  image  that  smiled  back  her  admiration.  "  I  made 
out  a  list  this  morning  in  my  room ;  shall  I  bring  it  ?  " 

She  ran  into  her  room  and  came  out  again  with  a  hand 
ful  of  engraved  cards,  some  of  them  already  filled  in. 


SHADOWS      OF      A      SEPARATION. 


91 


«  I  knew,  of  course,  that  the  ball  was  to  be,  so  had  the 
cards  struck  off.  Tom  Fuller  brought  them  down.  Just 
add  what  names  you  please,  Bessie,  and  we  will  leave  the 
rest  to  Mrs.  Harrington." 

«  Why,  Elsie  !  "  began  Mrs.  Mellen. 

«  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  think  of — " 

"Oh,  it's  settled,  so  don't  discuss  it.  What!  looking 
cross  ?  Why,  Grant  dear,  I— I— did  not  think  you  would 
be  offended.'7 

«  But  I  am,  Elsie." 

She  dropped  into  a  chair,  pressed  both  hands  to  her  side, 
and  shrunk  away  into  a  grieved,  feeble  little  thing,  that 
had  been  crushed  by  a  single  blow. 

«  Why,  Elsie  !  " 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  covered  them  with 

both  hands. 

"  I  am  not  angry,  child,  only  surprised." 

«  But  you  will  be— you  will  be  very  angry  when  I  tell 
you  that  some  of  the  invitations  are  sent  out.  Oh,  I  wish 
I  were  dead  !  " 

Her  lips  quivered  like  those  of  a  grieved  and  half-fright 
ened  child.  Her  cheeks  were  wet,  and  their  color  had  left 

them. 

«  Oh,  Grantley,  Grantley,  don't— don't  look  at  me  in  that 
way.  Dear  Bessie,  tell  him  how  sorry  I  am." 

Mellen  was  walking  the  floor  in  considerable  agitation. 
He  had  hoped  for  a  little  peace  in  his  own  home— a  few 
days  of  tranquil  confidence  with  his  wife.  Now  everything 
was  broken  in  upon.  There  would  be  nothing  but  confu 
sion  up  to  the  very  hour  of  his  starting. 

Elsie  watched  him  furtively,  and  with  sidelong  glances. 
She  knew  how  terrible  his  anger  was  when  once  aroused. 

"  Oh,  if  my  poor  mother  had  lived." 

«  Peace,  Elsie !  I  will  not  have  that  sacred  name  drag- 


92  T  H  B     B  A  L  L. 

ged  into  an  affair  like  this.  Have  your  way,  but  remember 
it  is  the  last  time  that  you  must  venture  on  the  preroga 
tives  of  my  wife." 

Elsie  left  the  room  really  frightened,  and  sobbing  pite- 
ously,  but  the  moment  she  found  herself  in  her  boudoir  a 
smile  broke  through  her  tears,  and  she  laughed  out. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,  we  shall  have  the  ball.  I  wonder 
if  Bessie  put  him  up  to  that.  Hateful  thing,  he  never 
scolded  me  so  before.  Her  prerogatives,  indeed." 

As  for  Grantley  Mellen,  this  untoward  intrusion  had 
broken  up  the  happy  moment  which  might  have  given  him 
an  insight  into  all  that  his  wife  felt  and  suffered.  The 
interview  which  had  promised  such  gentle  confidence  only 
ended  in  mutual  irritation. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    BALL. 

THE  evening  of  the  ball  arrived  j  the  house  was 
crowded,  and  for  the  scores  it  was  impossible  to  accommo 
date,  Mellen  had  made  arrangements  in  his  usual  lavish 
way,  for  a  conveyance  back  and  forth  in  a  steamer  char 
tered  for  the  occasion. 

The  old  house  was  a  beautiful  sight  that  evening.  The 
long  suite  of  drawing-rooms  were  flung  open,  and  in  the 
far  distance  a  noble  conservatory,  half  greenness,  half  crys 
tal,  terminated  the  view  like  some  South  Sea  island  flooded 
with  moonlight. 

It  was  not  alone  that  these  noble  rooms  were  shaded  with 
richly-tinted  draperies,  and  filled  with  costly  furniture  ; 
any  wealthy  man's  house  may  offer  those  things  ;  but  Mel 
len  had  thrown  his  fine  individual  taste  into  the  adornments 


THE     BALL.  V6 

of  his  home.  Antique  and  modern  statues  gleamed  out  of 
the  general  luxuriousness.  Pictures  that  made  your  breath 
come  unsteadily  broke  up  the  walls,  and  groups  of  bronze 
gave  you  surprises  at  every  turn.  The  works  of  art,  some 
times  arrayed  in  one  long  dreary  gallery,  were  here  scat 
tered  in  nooks  and  corners,  completing  each  room  with 
their  beauty. 

And  all  this  was  kindled  up  into  one  brilliant  whole. 
There  was  no  crowding  in  those  rooms.  Each  rare  object 
had  its  peculiar  light  and  appropriate  space.  A  master 
mind  had  arranged  every  thing. 

In  these  almost  palatial  saloons  Elizabeth  stood  by  her 
husband,  receiving  their  guests  as  they  came  in. 

Elsie  was  in  brilliant  spirits  that  night,  and  her  buoyant 
gayetjr  formed  a  singular  contrast  with  the  quiet  repose  of 
Elizabeth. 

Tom  Fuller  followed  the  pretty  elf  about  everywhere 
in  spite  of  her  cruel  rebuffs,  for  he  was  sadly  in  her  way 
that  night ;  and  when  she  refused  to  dance  with  him, 
peremptorily  ordering  him  away  to  entertain  dowagers,  or 
perform  any  similar  heavy  work,  he  would  take  the  post  she 
assigned  him,  and  watch  her  with  fascinated  eyes  as  she 
floated  down  the  dance  or  practised  her  wiles  on  every  man 
who  approached,  just  as  she  had  once  thought  it  worth 
while  to  entrance  him. 

On  that  evening  Tom  Fuller  woke  to  a  consciousness  of 
the  truth ;  he  understood  the  confusion  and  bewilderment 
which  had  been  in  his  mind  for  weeks  past ;  he  loved  this 
bright  young  creature  with  the  whole  force  of  his  rugged 
nature,  and  began  dimly  to  comprehend  that  she  cared  no 
more  for  him  or  his  sufferings  than  if  his  heart  had  been 
a  football  or  shuttlecock. 

He  captured  Elizabeth,  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the 
lights  and  gayety,  told  her  of  his  wrongs,  with  such  energy 
that  it  required  her  constant  effort  to  prevent  him  from 
attracting  general  attention. 


94  T  H  E      B  A  L  L. 

"  I  love  her,"  he  burst  out,  "  I  do  love  her  !  She  might 
run  my  heart  through  with  a  rusty  bayonet,  if  she  would 
only  care  for  me." 

The  beginning  was  not  at  all  coherent,  but  Elizabeth 
perfectly  understood  what  he  meant.  .  Several  times  during 
the  past  weeks  she  had  attempted  to  open  his  eyes  to  the 
truth  j  but  he  would  neither  see  nor  hear,  and  had  insisted 
upon  rushing  on  to  his  fate  like  a  great  blundering  blue 
bottle  into  a  spider's  web. 

"Do  you  think  there's  any  hope,  Bessie,  do  you?  I  ain't 
handsome,  and  I  ain't  disgustingly  rich  ;  but  I'll  give  her 
all  my  heart !  I'll  work  for  her,  die  for  her ;  I'd  lay  my 
own  soul  down  for  her  to  walk  over,  only  to  keep  her  little 
feet  dry,  upon  my  honor  I  would." 

Elizabeth  drew  him  into  a  window  recess,  and  tried  to 
soothe  his  agitation. 

"  Poor  old  Tom  ! "  she  whispered ;  "  poor  dear  old 
Tom  ! " 

"  I  know  what  that  means/'  he  said,  choking  desper 
ately  ;  "  you  don't  think  there  is  any  hope.  You  know 
there  is  not !  " 

"  I  have  tried  to  talk  to  you,  Tom,  but  you  wouldn't 
listen—" 

"  Yes,  I  know,  I  know  !  It's  my  own  fault— I'll— I'll 
turn  up  jolly  in  a  little  while — it's  only  the  f — first  that's 
hard  ! " 

And  Tom  blew  and  whistled  in  his  efforts  to  keep  his 
composure,  in  a  way  that  was  irresistibly  ludicrous.  In 
the  midst  of  his  distress  the  poor  fellow  could  not  help 
being  comical.  Even  in  the  suffering  which  was  so  terri 
bly  real  to  him  he  made  Elizabeth  smile. 

"  I'm  a  great  fool !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Just  pitch  in  and 
abuse  me  like  smoke,  Bessie,  I  think  it  would  do  me  good." 

"  Only  wait  till  to-morrow,"  she  said,  "  I  will  talk  with 
you  then — we  shall  be  overheard  now." 


T  H  E      B  A  L  L.  95 

"Oh,  I  can't  help  it  if  the  whole  world  hears,"  he 
groaned ;  "  I  can't  wait !  The  way  she's  going  on  with 
those  dashing  young  fellows  drives  me  mad !  Why 
couldn't  1  have  been  a  dashing  fellow  too,  instead  of 
such  a  great  live-oak  hulk !  I  can't  stir  without  stum 
bling  over  somebody,  and  as  for  saying  those  dainty  things 
that  they  are  pouring  into  her  ears,  and  be  hanged  to  'em 
— I  can't  do  it.  No  wonder  she  scorns  me  !  " 

Tom  dealt  his  unfortunate  forehead  a  blow  that  made 
it  scarlet  for  several  moments,  and  quieted  him  down  some 
what. 

"  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do,  Bessie  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  You're  so  sensible  and  so  good — just  give  a  fellow  a  hint." 

"Dear  Tom,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait — " 

"  That's  pretty  advice  ! "  he  burst  in.  "  You  might  as 
well  tell  a  person  in  a  blaze  of  fire  to  wait !  No,  I  shan't 
wait — I  shan't,  I  say  ! " 

Tom  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair  till  it  stood  up, 
quivering  as  if  he  had  received  an  electric  shock. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  look  so  black  at  me,  Bessie ;  I  know 
just  what  a  humbug  I  am  as  well  as  you." 

"  I  wasn't  looking  black  at  you ;  I  am  very,  very  sorry, 
Tom." 

"  Don't  pity  me  ;  I  shall  break  right  down  if  you  do." 

"  I  must  go  back,  Tom,"  she  said ;  "  I  can't  stay  here 
any  longer." 

"  I  know  it ;  of  course  you  can't.  I'll  just  wait  a  minute 
and  then there,  go!  What  a  nuisance  I  am  !" 

Elizabeth  went  back  into  the  ball-room,  where  she  saw 
Elsie  whirling  through  a  waltz,  looking  as  happy  and 
unconscious  as  if  she  had  not  just  crushed  a  warm,  lov 
ing  human  heart  under  her  pretty  foot. 

Mrs.  Mellen  stood  a  moment  arrested ;  no  one  seemed 
to  heed  her. 

She  saw  Mrs.  Harrington  forcing  Mellen  to  walk  through 


96  T  H  E      B  A  L  L. 

a  quadrille,  and  felt  certain  that  he  was  as  restless  as 
herself. 

"  But  it  is  for  Elsie,"  she  thought ;  he  will  not  mind  so 
long  as  it  is  for  her.  None  of  them  will  miss  me." 

Tom  Fuller  stood  in  the  bay  window  for  some  time  trying 
to  collect  his  scattered  faculties.  Any  thing  like  rational 
thought  was  quite  out  of  the  question  with  him  ;  he  felt  as 
if  a  great  humming-top  were  spinning  about  in  his  ears,  and 
his  heart  was  in  a  state  of  palpitation  that  utterly  defies 
description. 

Finally  ho  passed  through  the  drawing-rooms  where 
people  were  busy  over  their  cards  or  their  small-talk,  and 
entered  the  ball-room  from  which  he  bad  rushed  in  such 
frenzy. 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  music,  and  Elsie  was  standing 
surrounded  by  a  group  of  gentlemen,  not  even  seeing  Tom 
as  he  approached.  He  managed  to  edge  himself  into  the 
circle  at  last,  and  stood  watching  Elsie  very  much  like  a 
sheep-dog  that  wanted  dreadfully  to  worry  something,  but 
knew  that  he  would  get  himself  into  difficulty  if  he  even 
ventured  on  a  bark. 

But  speak  with  her,  he  would  ;  Tom  had  reached  that 
point  where  his  feelings  must  find  vent  or  explode,  and 
scatter  mischief  all  around. 

Finally  a  brilliant  idea  struck  him,  and  he  got  near 
enough  to  whisper — 

'•  Bessie  wants  to  see  you  a  moment." 

Elsie  turned  away  impatiently. 

t(  Now,  this  moment,"  added  Tom,  growing  very  red  at 
his  own  fib,  but  following  it  up  courageously. 

He  knew  very  well  that  the  dandies  were  quizzing  him  j 
he  saw  that  Elsie  was  provoked  ;  but  though  he  trembled 
in  every  joint,  and  his  face  had  heat  enough  in  it  to  have 
kept  a  poor  family  comfortably  warm  from  the  reflection, 
he  resolutely  held  out  his  arm,  and  the  young  lady  took  it, 
pouting  and  flinging  back  smiles  to  her  forsaken  admirers. 


TOM      MA  K.E  S      A      DECLARATION.  97 

"  My  sister  wants  me,"  she  said,  in  explanation  to  her 
friends.  "  Tiresome,  isn't  it  ?  for  there  is  no  guessing 
when  she  will  let  me  come  back." 

Tom  led  his  captive  away,  but  he  was  dreadfully  fright 
ened  at  the  success  of  his  own  manoeuvre. 

"  Where  is  Bessie  ?  "  asked  Elsie,  impatiently,  as  they 
walked  down  the  ball-room. 

"This  way,"  faltered  Tom;  "we  shall  find  her  in  a 
moment." 

Elsie  never  deigned  him  another  word  ;  she  was  very 
angry,  as  she  could  be  with  any  thing  or  anybody  that 
marred  her  selfish  enjoyment,  and  Tom  walked  on  towards 
one  of  the  parlors  which  he  knew  was  empty,  feeling  like  a 
man  about  to  charge  a  battery  single  handed,  but  deter 
mined  to  persevere  nevertheless. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TOM    MAKES    A    DECLARATION. 

TOM  led  his  captive  into  the  parlor.  Elsie  looked  about 
in  surprise — there  was  not  a  soul  visible. 

"  Are  you  crazy,  Tom  Fuller  ?  "  cried  she  ;  "  Bessie  is 
not  here." 

"  She  s\all  be  here  in  a  minute,"  stammered  Tom  ;  "just 
wait,  please." 

"  Indeed  I  will  do  no  such  thing,"  returned  Elsie, 
sharply,  snatching  her  hand  from  his  arm.  "Did  she 
send  you  for  me,  Tom  Fuller  ?  " 

"  jSTo,"  cried  Tom,  with  sudden  energy,    "  I  told  a  lie  ! 
1  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer;  I  must  speak  with   you; 
waiting  was  impossible  !  " 
6 


98  TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION. 

Elsie  turned  on  him  like  a  little  kingbird  darting  on  a 
hawk. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  unwarrantable  liberty  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  Have  you  no  idea  of  the  common 
usages  of  society?  Don't  come  near  me  again  to-night j 
don't  speak  to  me." 

She  was  darting  away,  but  Tom  caught  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  wait,  Elsie,  wait !  " 

"  You  ridiculous  creature  ! "  said  Elsie,  beginning  to 
laugh  in  spite  of  her  vexation.  "  What  on  earth  do  you 
want  ?  " 

"Laugh  at  me!"  groaned  Tom;  "I  deserve  it — I 
expect  it — but  I  can't  live  this  way  any  longer !  You 
are  driving  me  crazy.  I  love  you,  Elsie !  Only  speak 
one  kind  word — just  say  you  don't  hate  me." 

Pie  was  holding  out  his  two  hands,  looking  so  exceed 
ingly  energetic  in  his  wretchedness,  that  Elsie  burst  into 
perfect  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"  You  silly  old  goose  !  "  she  said  ;  "  don't  you  know  yon 
mustn't  talk  in  that  way  to  me  !  You  have  no  right,  and 
it  iti  very  impertinent !  There,  go  along — I  forgive  you." 

Tom  stared  at  her  with  his  astonished  eyes  wide  open. 

"  You  can  laugh  at  me  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  all 
these  weeks  you  have  let  me  go  on  loving  you,  and  never 
hinted  that  it  was  so  very  disagreeable." 

"  Now,  Tom,  don't  be  tiresome  !  " 

Tom  groaned  aloud. 

"  Why  1  never  saw  such  conduct ! "  cried  Elsie,  impa 
tiently.  "  It's  too  bad  of  you  to  behave  so — you  are  spoil 
ing  my  whole  evening !  You  are  just  as  disagreeable  as 
you  can  be.  Oh,  I  hate  you  ! " 

"  Elsie  !  Elsie  !  " 

"  Let  go  my  hand ;  suppose  anybody  should  come  in ! 
Oh,  you  old  goose  of  a  Tom — let  me  go,  I  say." 

"Just  one  minute,  Elsie — " 


TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION.  99 

" To-morrow  —  any  time!  Don't  you  know  civilized 
beings  never  behave  in  this  way  at  a  ball." 

"  I  don't  know — I  can't  think  !  I  only  feel  I  love  you, 
Elsie,  and  must  speak  out.  I  will  speak  out." 

A  few  weeks  earlier  Elsie  would  only  have  been  amused 
at  all  this  from  general  lack  of  amusement,  but  now  it 
vexed  and  irritated  her.  Girl-like  she  had  not  the  slight 
est  pity  on  his  pain.  He  was  keeping  her  sorely  against 
her  wishes. 

"  I  am  served  right  for  treating  you  as  a  friend,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  looked  upon  you  as  a  relation,  and  thought  you 
understood  it ;  now  you  are  trying  to  make  me  unhappy. 
Bessie  will  be  angry,  and  tell  Grant.  Oh,  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed." 

"  I  won't  make  you  any  trouble,"  shivered  Tom ;  "  I 
won't  distress  you  !  There — I  beg  your  pardon,  Elsie,  I 
am  sorry  !  And  you  don't — you  never  can,  Elsie,  Elsie — " 

"  No,  no,  you  silly  old  fellow,  of  course  not !  Now  be 
good,  and  I'll  forget  all  about  this  folly.  Let  me  go,  Tom, 
I  can't  stay  here  any  longer — let  me  go." 

Tom  still  held  her  hand. 

"  This  is  earnest !  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Tom,  if  you  don't  let  me  go  I'll  scream  1 
You  are  absurd — why,  you  ought  to  be  put  in  a  straight 
jacket." 

Tom  dropped  her  hand,  and  stood  like  a  man  over 
powered  by  some  sudden  blow. 

Elsie  saw  only  the  comical  side  of  the  matter,  and  began 
to  laugh  again. 

"  Don't  laugh,"  he  said,  passionately  ;  "  for  mercy's  sake 
don't  laugh!" 

There  was  a  depth  of  suffering  in  his  tone  which  forced 
itself  to  be  realized  even  by  that  selfish  creature  ;  but  it 
only  made  her  begin  to  consider  herself  exceedingly  ill- 
used,  and  to  blame  Tom  for  spoiling  her  pleasure. 


100          TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION. 

"  Now  you  want  to  blame  me,"  she  said,  angrily,  "  and 
I  haven't  done  a  thing  to  encourage  you." 

"  No,  no ;  I  don't  blame  you,  Elsie,"  he  said ;  "  it's  all 
my  own  fault — all  mine." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  cried  Elsie.  "  Who  could  think  you 
would  be  so  foolish.  There,  shake  hands,  Tom,  for  I'm  in 
a  hurry.  You  are  not  angry  ?  " 

"  Angry — no,"  said  Tom,  drearily. 

"  That's  right !     Good-by — you'll  be  wiser  to-morrow." 

Elsie  glided  away,  and  Tom  watched  her  go  out  of  the 
room,  and  realized  that  she  was  floating  out  of  his  life  for 
ever,  that  the  dream  of  the  past  was  at  an  end,  and  he  was 
left  alone  in  the  darkness. 

Poor  old  Tom  !  It  was  very  hard,  but  no  one  could  have 
resisted  a  smile  at  his  appearance  !  When  Elsie  left  him, 
he  dashed  out  of  the  room,  and  hid  himself  in  the  most  out 
of  the  way  corner  he  could  find. 

As  he  crossed  the  hall,  he  heard  Elizabeth  call — 

"  Tom,  Tom  !  " 

He  stopped,  and  she  came  towards  him.  One  look  at  his 
face  revealed  the  whole  truth.  She  did  not  speak,  but  took 
his  hand  in  hers,  with  a  mute  expression  of  sympathy 
which  overpowered  him. 

"  Don't !  don't !  "  he  said.  "  Let  me  go,  Bessie  !  I'm 
a  fool — it's  all  over  now  !  There,  don't  mind  me — I'll  be 
better  soon  !  I've  got  a  chance  to  go  to  Europe  for  awhile, 
in  fact  it's  to  Calcutta.  I  shall  be  all  right  when  I  come 
back." 

"  Oh,  my  poor  old  Tom  !  Elsie  is  a  wicked  girl  to  have 
trifled  with  you  so." 

"  She  didn't !  "  he  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  Don't 
blame  her.  I  won't  have  it.  There's  nobody  in  fault  but 
me.  I  deserve  it  all !  I'm  a  blundering,  wrong-headed 
donkey,  and  she's  lovely  as — as — " 

Here  Tom  broke  down,  and  going  to  a  window  looked 
resolutely  out. 


TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION.  101 

"  But  you  won't  go  away,  Tom  ?  "  said  Elizabeth  follow* 
ing  him. 

"  Yes,  I  will.  I  shan't  Le  gone  but  a  few  months. 
Don't  try  to  keep  me.  I'll  be  all  right  when  we  meefi 
again." 

"Oh,  Tom,  Tom  !"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Now,  be  still ;  that's  a  good  girl ;  I  don't  want  to  be 
pitied.  It's  of  no  consequence,  not  the  slightest." 

He  broke  abruptly  away,  and  disappeared,  leaving  Eliza 
beth  full  of  sympathy  for  his  distress,  and  regret  at  the 
idea  of  losing  her  old  playmate — she  had  depended  on  him 
so  much  during  her  husband's  absence. 

There  had  been  a  lull  in  the  music,  but  it  struck  up  again 
now,  and  the  saloons  reverberated  with  a  stirring  waltz. 
Elizabeth  stood  a  moment  listening  to  the  crash  of  sound 
and  the  tread  of  light  feet,  but  her  heart  was  full  and  her 
brow  anxious.  She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
It  was  a  lovely  night,  but  the  eternal  roll  and  sweep  of  the 
ocean  seemed  to  depress  her  with  some  terrible  dread.  In 
all  that  splendid  tumult  she  was  alone.  As  she  stood  by 
the  window  her  husband  came  down  the  hall  smiling  upon 
the  lady  who  hung  upon  his  arm.  He  had  not  missed  her, 
would  not  miss  her.  There  was  no  fear  of  that.  She 
glided  away  with  this  dreary  thought  in  her  mind.  Mellen 
almost  touched  her  as  she  turned  into  a  little  room  opening 
upon  the  conservatory,  but  she  went  on  unnoticed. 

Tom  Fuller  had  retreated  into  the  conservatory,  and  was 
sitting  disconsolately  in  an  iron  garden  chair,  sheltered  by 
a  small  tree,  drooping  with  3rellow  fringe-like  blossoms, 
when  a  lady  entered  from  one  of  the  side  doors,  and  passed 
out  towards  the  gardens. 

Tom  started  up,  and  called  out,  "  Bessie  !  Why,  Bessie, 
is  that  you  ?  What  on  earth—  " 

The  lady  made  no  response,  but  looked  over  her  shoulder, 
and  sprang  forward  like  a  deer,  causing  a  tumult  among  the 
plants  as  she  rushed  through  them. 


102  TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION. 

Tom  stood  motionless,  lost  in  amazement ;  for  over  a  ball 
dress  which  seemed  white — he  could  discover  nothing  more, 
— the  lady  was  shrouded  head  and  person,  in  a  blanket 
shawl,  which  he  knew  to  be  Elizabeth's,  from  the  broad 
crimson  stripes  that  ran  across  it. 

After  his  first  amazement  Tom  sat  down  again,  heaving 
a  deep  sigh,  and  retreated  further  behind  the  flowering 
branches,  that  no  one  might  look  upon  his  unmanly 
sorrow. 

"  Poor  Bessie,  poor  thing,"  he  muttered,  "  I  suppose  she 
feels  just  as  I  do,  like  a  fish  out  of  water,  in  all  these  fine 
doings.  I'd  follow  her,  and  we'd  take  a  melancholy  walk 
together  in  the  moonlight,  if  it  was  not  that  Elsie  might 
happen  to  get  tired  of  dancing  with  those  fellows,  and  come 
in  here  to  rest  a  minute,  when  I  could  hide  away  and  look 
at  her  through  the  plants." 

Tom  had  in  reality  startled  the  lady  shrouded  in  that 
great  travelling  shawl,  for  once  out  of  doors  she  stood  full 
half  a  minute  listening  with  bated  breath,  and  one  foot 
advanced,  ready  to  spring  away  if  any  sound  reached  her. 
Then  she  walked  on  with  less  desperate  haste,  bending  her 
course  through  the  shrubberies  towards  a  grove  of  trees 
that  lay  between  the  open  grounds  and  the  shore. 

It  was  a  balmy  October  evening,  moonlight,  but  sha 
dowed  by  hosts  of  white  scudding  clouds.  The  wind  blew 
up  freshly  from  the  water,  scattered  storms  of  gorgeous 
leaves  around  her  as  she  approached  the  grove  which  was 
still  heavj7-  with  foliage,  perfectly  splendid  in  the  sunlight, 
but  now  all  shadows  and  blackness.  On  the  edge  of  the 
grove,  just  under  a  vast  old  oak,  whose  great  limbs  scarcely 
swayed  in  the  wind,  the  lady  paused  and  uttered  some 
name  in  a  low,  cautious  voice. 

A  spark  of  fire  flashed  down  to  the  earth,  as  if  some  one 
had  flung  away  his  cigar  in  haste,  and  instantly  footsteps 
rustled  in  the  dead  leaves.  The  branches  of  the  oak  bent 


TOM      MAKES      A      DECLARATION.  103 

low,  and  behind  it  was  a  thicket  of  young  trees'.  The  lady 
did  not  feel  safe,  even  in  the  darkness,  but  moved  on  to 
meet  the  person  who  advanced  in  the  deeper  shadows,  where 
even  the  edges  of  her  white  dress,  which  fell  below  the 
shawl,  were  lost  to  the  eye. 

As  she  stood  panting  in  the  shelter,  a  man's  voice 
addressed  her,  and  his  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  How  you  tremble  !  " 

The  voice  sounded,  in  that  balmy  October  night,  sweet 
and  mellow  as  the  dropping  of  its  over-ripe  leaves.  The 
female  did  indeed  tremble  violently. 

"  Look,  look  !     I  am  followed,"  she  whispered. 

The  man  stepped  a  pace  forward,  peered  through  the  oak 
branches,  and  stole  cautiously  to  her  side  again. 

"  It  is  Mellen  ! " 

She  darted  away,  dragging  her  shawl  from  the  grasp  that 
man  had  fastened  upon  it, — away  unfor  the  old  oak,  and 
along  the  outskirts  of  the  grove.  She  paused  a  moment  in 
breathless  terror  at  the  narrowest  point  of  the  lawn,  then 
darted  across  it,  huddling  the  skirt  of  her  ball  dress  up 
with  one  hand,  and  sweeping  the  dead  leaves  in  winrows 
after  her  with  the  fringes  of  her  shawl.  She  avoided  the 
conservatory,  for  Tom  was  still  visible  through  its  rolling 
waves  of  glass — and,  turning  to  the  servants'  entrance,  ran 
up  a  flight  of  dark  stairs  into  the  shaded  lights  of  a  cham 
ber.  She  flung  the  heavy  shawl  breathlessly  on  a  couch, 
shook  the  snowy  masses  of  her  dress  into  decorous  folds, 
and  stole  to  the  window  on  tip-toe,  where  she  stood,  white 
and  panting  for  breath,  watching  the  lawn  and  grove,  with 
wild,  eager  eyes,  as  if  she  feared  her  footsteps  in  the  leaves 
might  have  been  detected  even  in  the  darkness. 


104  WHO      COULD      IT      HAVE      BEEN. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHO    COULD    IT    HAVE    BEEN  ? 

THE  evening  passed  drearily  enough  to  Grantley  Mellen. 
He  was  in  no  spirits  for  society  and  the  gay  bustle  ;  the 
lights,  the  music,  the  constraint  he  was  forced  to  put  upon 
himself,  and  the  cheerfulness  he  was  obliged  to  assume, 
only  wearied  him. 

A  strange  and  unaccountable  dread  of  his  approaching 
journey  possessed  him.  It  had  grown  stronger  as  the  days 
passed  on,  and  that  night  was  more  powerful  than  ever. 

Sometimes  he  was  almost  ready  to  think  it  a  presenti 
ment  ;  perhaps  he  was  never  to  return  from  that  voyage  ; 
some  unseen  danger  awaited  him  in  that  distant  land,  and 
he  should  die  there,  -far  from  the  sound  of  every  voice,  the 
touch  of  every  hand  that  was  dear  to  him. 

He  was  vexed  with  himself  for  indulging  in  this  super 
stitious  weakness ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  the 
thought  would  recur  again  and  again,  oppressing  him  with 
a  dreary  sense  of  desolation  that  made  the  brilliant  scene 
around  absolutely  repulsive. 

He  left  the  lighted  rooms  at  last,  and  passed  through  the 
hall  on  to  the  piazza  which  overlooked  the  sea. 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening  ;  the  moonlight,  escaping  from 
tinder  a  bank  of  clouds,  lay  silvery  and  broad  upon  the 
lawn,  and  broke  a  path  of  diamonds  across  the  rippling 
waters,  lighting  them  up  to  wonderful  splendor.  The  air 
was  balmy  and  soft  as  spring,  the  wind  rippled  pleasantly 
among  the  trees,  but  there  was  no  melody  in  its  tones  to 
his  ear ;  it  seemed  only  a  repetition  of  the  mournful  warn 
ing  which  had  haunted  his  thoughts. 

He  walked  on  across  the  lawn,  anxious  to  get  beyond  the 
sound  of  the  music  and  gayety  which  followed  him  from 


WHO      COULD      IT      HAVE      BEEN.  105 

the  house,  for  it  jarred  upon  his  ears  with  deafening  dis 
cordance. 

He  entered  a  little  thicket  of  bushes  and  young  trees,  in 
the  midst  of  which  rose  up  a  dark,  funereal-looking  cj^press, 
that  always  waved  its  branches  tremulously,  however  still 
the  air  might  be,  and  seemed  to  be  oppressed  with  a  trouble 
which  it  could  only  utter  in  faint  moaning  whispers. 

As  he  stood  there,  looking  into  the  gloom,  with  a  sense 
of  relief  at  finding  some  object  more  in  unison  with  his 
dark  thoughts,  he  saw  a  figure  glide  away  from  the  foot  of 
the  cypress,  and  disappear  in  the  shrubbery  bej'ond. 

It  was  a  woman  wrapped  in  some  dark  garment — in  move 
ment  and  form  like  his  wife — could  it  be  his  wife  wander 
ing  about  the  grounds  at  that  hour  ? 

"  Elizabeth  !  "  he  called  j  but  there  was  no  answer. 

He  hurried  forward  among  the  trees,  but  there  was  no 
object  visible,  no  response  to  the  summons  he  repeated 
several  times. 

It  might  be  some  guest  who  had  stolen  out  there  for  a 
few  minutes'  quiet ;  yet  that  was  not  probable.  Besides,  the 
movements  of  the  slender  form  appeared  familiar  to  him. 
In  height  and  shape  Elsie  and  Elizabeth  resembled  each 
other;  it  was  possibly  one  of  them,  but  which  ? 

Elsie  it  could  not  be,  she  had  a  nervous  dread  of  darkness 
and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  stir  off  the  piazza  after  night 
fall.  It  must  have  been  Elizabeth,  then  ;  but  what  was 
she  doing  there  ! 

He  started  towards  the  house  with  some  vague  thought 
in  his  mind,  to  which  he  could  have  given  no  expression. 

His  wife  was  not  in  any  of  the  rooms  through  which  he 
passed,  and  he  hurried  into  the  ball-room.  The  music  had 
just  struck  up  anew ;  he  saw  Elsie  whirling  through  a 
waltz ;  but  Elizabeth  was  nowhere  visible. 

He  drew  near  enough  to  Elsie  to  whisper— 

"  Where  is  Bessie  ?  " 


106  WHO      COULD      IT      HAVE      BEEN. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  have  been  dancing 
all  the  while,  and  have  not  seen  her  for  some  time." 

He  turned  away  ;  but,  just  then,  Mrs.  Harrington  cap 
tured  him,  and  it  was  several  moments  before  he  could 
escape  from  her  tiresome  loquacity. 

The  moment  he  was  at  liberty  Mellen  hurried  through 
the  parlors  and  up  the  stairs,  opened  the  door  of  Elizabeth's 
dressing-room,  and  entered.  There  she  was,  standing  at 
the  window,  looking  out.  She  turned  quickly,  and  in  some 
confusion  at  his  sudden  entrance. 

"  Is  it  you?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  been  looking  for  you  everywhere  !  " 

"I  came  up  here  for  a  moment's  quiet,"  she  answered. 
"  I  am  very,  very  tired ;  I  wish  it  was  all  over,  Grantley." 

"  Have  you  been  out  ?  "  he  asked. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  she  hesitated  a  little,  as  she 
answered — 

"  Out  ?     No  ;  where — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  thought  I  saw  you  in  the  grounds  a  little  while  ago." 

"  I  should  not  be  likely  to  go  out  in  this  dress,"  she 
replied,  glancing  down  at  the  point  lace  flounces  that 
floated  over  the  snowy  satin  of  her  train.  "  Come,  we 
must  go  down  stairs ;  our  guests  will  think  us  careless 
hosts." 

Mellen  felt  and  looked  dissatisfied,  but  could  not  well 
press  the  matter  farther. 

"  Are  you  coming  down  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  of  course,"  he  replied,  coldly.  "  Don't  wait  for 
me." 

She  walked  away  without  another  word. 

"  She  avoids  me,"  he  thought.  "  I  see  it  more  and 
more." 

The  ball  was  over  at  last.  Even  Elsie  was  completely 
tired  out,  and  glad  to  nestle  away  under  the  azure  curtains 
of  her  bed  when  the  guests  had  departed. 


WHO      COULD      IT      HAVE      BEEN.  107 

With  the  next  morning  began  preparations  for  Mellen's 
departure  ;  and  during  the  bustle  of  the  following  week,  no 
one  found  much  time  for  thought  or  reflection. 

Tom  Fuller  came  down  suddenly,  and  opened  his  heart 
to  Elizabeth.  He  was  going  to  Europe  ;  he  did  not  ask  to 
see  Elsie  ;  lacking  the  courage  to  meet  her  again  for  the 
present — once  more,  perhaps,  before  he  went  away ;  but 
not  yet. 

Elizabeth  did  not  reproach  the  girl  for  her  share  in  the 
honest  fellow's  unhappiness.  She  merely  said — 

"  Tom  is  going  to  Europe  on  business  j  he  sails  next 
week." 

"  Oh,  the  foolish  old  fellow,"  replied  Elsie ;  "  and  he 
never  could  learn  to  speak  a  French  word  correctly — what 
fun  it  would  be  to  be  with  him  in  France." 

"  You  will  miss  him,"  Mellen  said,  quietly. 

"Oh,"  replied  his  wife,  with  a  forced  smile,  "I  must 
make  up  my  mind  to  be  lonely.  I  shall  live  through  the 
coming  dreary  months  as  1  best  can." 

"  It's  horrid  of  you  to  go,  Grant !  "  cried  Elsie. 

"I  know  it,  dear 5  but  there  is  no  use  in  fighting  the 
unavoidable." 

"  Mind  you  write  to  me  as  often  as  you  do  to  Bessie," 
she  said.  "  If  she  gets  one  letter  the  most,  I  never  will 
forgive  either  of  you." 

As  she  said  this,  the  girl  ran  up  to  her  brother,  and 
stood  leaning  against  his  shoulder,  with  a  playful  caress, 
while  he  looked  down  at  her  with  such  entire  love  and 
trust  in  his  face,  that  Elizabeth  crept  quietly  away,  and 
left  them  together. 

The  few  days  left  to  Mellen  passed  in  a  tumult  of  prep 
aration.  Sad  doubts  were  at  his  heart,  vague  and  so 
formless  that  he  could  not  have  expressed  them  in  words, 
but  painful  as  proven  realities. 

Elizabeth  was  greatly  disturbed  also ;  her  fine  color  had 


108  WHO      COULD      IT      HAVE      BEEN. 

almost  entirely  disappeared.  She  trembled  at  the  slightest 
shock,  and  her  very  lips  would  turn  white  when  she  spoke 
of  her  husband's  departure.  She  seemed  stricken  with  a 
mortal  terror  of  his  going,  yet  made  no  effort  to  detain  him. 
She,  too,  had  presentiments  of  evil  that  shocked  her  whole 
system,  and  made  her  brightest  smile  something  mournful 
to  look  upon. 

But  the  husband  and  wife  had  little  opportunity  to 
observe  or  understand  the  feelings  that  tortured  them 
both.  Elsie's  cries,  and  tears,  and  hysterical  spasms, 
kept  the  whole  household  in  commotion.  She  should 
never  see  her  brother  again  —  never,  never.  Elizabeth 
might  not  be  good  to  her.  Sisters-in-law  and  school- 
friends  were  different  creatures  ;  she  had  found  that  out 
already.  If  she  could  only  have  died  with  her  mother ! 

These  cries  broke  out  vehemently  on  the  night  before 
Melleu's  departure.  The  spoiled  child  would  not  allow 
her  brother  to  spend  one  moment  from  her  side.  So  all 
that  night  Elizabeth,  pale,  still,  and  bowed  down  by  a 
terrible  heart-ache,  watched  with  her  husband  by  the 
azure  couch  which  Elsie  preferred  to  her  bed.  It  was  a 
sad,  mournful  night  to  them  both. 

At  daylight,  Elsie's  egotism  was  exhausted,  and  she 
fell  asleep.  The  first  sunshine  came  stealing  up  from  its 
silvery  play  on  the  water,  and  shimmering  through  the 
lace  curtains,  fell  on  the  young  girl  as  she  slept.  There 
was  trouble  on  that  sweet  face  —  genuine  trouble ;  for 
Elsie  loved  her  brother  dearly,  and  his  departure  agitated 
her  more  deeply  than  he  had  ever  known  her  moved  before. 
How  lovely  she  looked  with  the  drops  trembling  on 
those  long,  golden  lashes,  and  staining  the  warm  flush 
of  her  cheeks  !  One  arm,  from  which  the  muslin  sleeve 
had  fallen  back,  lay  under  her  head,  half-buried  in  a 
tangle  of  curls ;  sobs  broke  at  intervals  through  her 
parted  lips,  ending  in  long,  troubled  sighs. 


THE    HUSBAND'S    LAST    CHARGE.      109 

Mellen  was  deeply  touched.  Elizabeth  bent  her  head 
against  the  end  of  the  couch,  and  wept  unheeded  drops 
of  anguish.  The  heart  ached  in  her  bosom. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  HUSBAND'S  LAST  CHARGE. 

ELIZABETH  MELLEN  shuddered  visibly  when  the  first 
sunbeam  fell  through  the  curtains.  Only  a  few  moments 
were  left  to  them.  Sick  and  faint,  she  lifted  her  head  and 
turned  her  imploring  eyes  on  her  husband's  face — eyes  so 
full  of  yearning  agony,  that  his  heart  must  have  leaped 
through  all  its  doubts  to  meet  hers,  had  not  his  glance  beer 
fixed  upon  Elsie.  The  long,  black  lashes  drooped  over  thost 
gray  eyes  when  she  found  their  appeal  disregarded,  and  the 
young  wife  shrunk  within  herself,  shuddering  at  her  own 
loneliness. 

A  servant  came  to  the  room,  and  by  a  sign  announced 
breakfast.  It  was  the  last  meal  they  might  ever  take  to 
gether.  This  thought  struck  them  both,  and  brought  their 
hands  in  contact  with  a  thrilling  clasp.  He  drew  her  arm 
through  his,  and  led  her  down  stairs.  She  felt  his  heart 
beating  against  her  arm,  looked  up,  and  saw  that  he  was 
regarding  her  with  glances  of  searching  tenderness.  Her 
eyes  filled  ;  her  bosom  heaved  ;  and,  but  for  a  wild  struggle, 
she  would  have  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears  before  the  ser 
vant,  who  held  the  door  open  for  them  to  pass  into  the 
breakfast-room. 

How  bright  and  cheerful  it  all  looked — the  crusted  snow 
of  the  linen  ;  the  delicately  chased  silver,  and  more  delicate 
china  ;  and  this  was  their  last  meal.  She  sat  down  and 
poured  out  his  coffee.  Her  hand  trembled,  but  she  tried  to 


110      THE    HUSBAND'S    LAST    CHARGE. 

smile  when  he  took  the  cup  and  praised  its  aroma.  She 
drank  some  herself,  for  the  chill  at  her  heart  was  spreading 
to  her  face  and  hands. 

Little  was  said  during  the  meal,  and  less  was  eaten. 
Elizabeth  looked  at  the  clock  as  a  convict  gazes  on  the  axe 
that  is  to  slay  him.  She  counted  the  moments  as  they 
crept  away,  devouring  the  brief  time  yet  given  to  them, 
while  he  glanced  at  his  watch,  nervously  every  few 
minutes. 

Then  the  husband  and  wife  went  up  stairs  again.  Eliza 
beth  turned  from  Elsie's  door  and  went  into  her  own 
dressing-room.  With  all  her  magnanimity  she  could  not 
give  her  husband  up  to  his  sister  during  the  last  moments 
of  his  stay.  He  followed  her  into  the  room,  but  directly 
lifted  the  curtain  and  went  into  Elsie's  boudoir,  where  the 
young  girl  lay  profoundly  sleeping.  Elizabeth  would  not 
follow.  Her  heart  was  swelling  too  painfully.  She  sat 
down,  clasped  both  hands  in  her  lap,  and  waited  like  a 
statue. 

He  had  only  crossed  the  boudoir,  bent  over  Elsie,  and 
pressed  a  cautious  but  most  loving  kiss  on  her  forehead. 
She  did  not  move,  but  smiled  softly  in  her  sleep,  and  he 
stole  away,  blessing  her. 

Elizabeth's  heart  gave  a  sudden  leap  when  he  came  into 
her  room  again  and  sat  down  by  her  side.  He  felt  how  cold 
her  hand  was.  and  kissed  it. 

"  Elizabeth  ! " 

She  turned,  frightened  b}T  the  tone  of  his  voice.  It  was 
hoarse  with  emotion. 

"Elizabeth,  I  have  one  charge  to  give  before  we  part." 

She  bent  her  head  in  sorrowful  submission. 

"  Elsie,  my  sister  !  " 

He  did  not  notice  the  red  flame  that  shot  up  to  her 
cheek,  or  the  shrinking  of  her  whole  frame,  but  went  on. 

"  The  child  is  so  precious  to  me.     The   dearest  human 


THE    HUSBAND'S    LAST    CHARGE.       Ill 

being  I  have  on  earth — "      He  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
added,  "  Except — except  you,  my  wife." 

She  was  grateful  even  for  this.  Was  it  that  she  was  con 
scious  of  deserving  nothing  more,  or  did  the  hungry  yearn 
ing  of  her  heart  seize  on  this  sweet  aliment  with  thankful 
ness  after  the  famine  of  her  recent  life  ? 

He  saw  the  tears  spring  into  her  eyes,  and  drew  her  closer 
to  his  side. 

"Be  careful  of  her  for  my  sake,  Elizabeth.  She  was 
given  me  in  solemn  charge  at  my  mother's  death-bed. 
She  has  been  the  sweetest  solace  of  my  barren  life.  Let  no 
harm  come  near  her — no  evil  thing  taint  the  mind  which  I 
leave  in  your  hands  pure  as  snow.  Guard  her,  love  her, 
and  give  her  back  to  me,  gentle,  guileless,  and  good,  as  she 
lies  now,  in  the  sweetest  and  most  innocent  sleep  I  ever 
witnessed." 

"I  will!  I  will!"  answered  Elizabeth,  conquering  a 
sharp  spasm  of  pain  with  the  spirit  of  a  martyr.  "  If 
human  care,  or  human  sacrifice  can  insure  her  welfare,  I 
will  not  be  found  wanting." 

Grantley  bent  down  and  kissed  his  wife  gratefully. 

"Remember,  Elizabeth,  my  happiness  and  honor  are  left 
in  your  keeping." 

Did  he  mean  that  honor  and  happiness  both  were  bound 
up  in  Elsie,  or  had  he  really  thought  of  her  rightful  share 
in  his  life  ? 

This  question  flashed  through  the  young  wife's  mind,  but 
she  would  not  accept  it  in  a  bitter  sense  then.  The  parting 
hour  was  close  at  hand.  She  trembled  as  each  moment  left 
them. 

"  I  will  be  kind  to  Elsie  as  you  can  desire ;  indeed  I 
will,"  she  said.  "  You  can  trust  me." 

"  If  I  doubted  that,  harassing  as  the  voyage  is,  I  would 
take  her  with  me." 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  could  take  us  both  !  It  terrifies  me  to 
be  left  alone,  surrounded  with — " 


112       THE    HUSBAND'S    LAST    CHARGE. 

"That  is  out  of  the  question  now.  But  when  I  come 
back,  we  will  try  and  make  this  life  of  ours  happier  than 
it  has  been." 

She  looked  at  him — her  great,  mournful  eyes  widening 
with  pain. 

"  Have  you  been  very  unhappy,  then,  Grantley,"  she 
faltered. 

"  Unhappy  !  I  did  not  say  that ;  but  hereafter  our  bliss 
must  be  more  perfect.  We  shall  understand  each  other 
better." 

"  Shall  we — shall  we  ever  ?  Oh,  Grantley,  without  love 
what  perfect  understanding  can  exist  ?  " 

Her  fine  eyes  were  flooded  with  tears  ;  every  feature  in 
her  face  quivered  with  emotion. 

A  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  chimed  out  the  hour  of  his 
departure.  On  the  instant  Dolf  knocked  at  the  door. 

Elizabeth  started  up,  trembling  like  a  wounded  bird  that 
struggles  away  from  a  second  shot. 

"So  soon!  so  soon!"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands. 
"I  had  so  much  to  ask  ;  everything  to  say,  and  now  there 
is  no  time." 

Grantley  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  very  hur 
riedly,  for  the  servant  was  standing  in  sight. 

"  God  bless  you,  Elizabeth,  I  must  go  ! " 

She  flung  her  arms  wildly  around  him.  Her  pale  face 
was  lifted  to  his  in  mute  appeal.  Was  it  for  pardon  of 
some  unknown  offence,  or  the  deep  craving  of  a  true  heart 
for  love  ? 

Grantley  put  her  away,  and  went  hurriedly  into  Elsie's 
room.  He  came  out  pale  and  troubled.  Elizabeth  stood 
by  the  door  gasping  her  breath  ;  he  wrung  the  hand  she 
held  forth  to  stop  him,  and  was  gone.  She  heard  his  steps 
as  they  went  down  the  walnut-staircase,  and  they  fell  upon 
her  like  distinct  blows.  The  great  hall-door  closed  with 
a  sharp  noise  that  made  her  start,  and  with  a  burst  of 


MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    TRIENDS.       113 

bitter,  bitter  anguish,  cry  out.  Then  came  the  sound  of 
carriage-wheels  grinding  through  gravel,  and  the  beat  of 
hoofs  that  seemed  trampling  down  the  heart  in  her  bosom. 
As  these  sounds  died  off,  she  attempted  to  reach  the  win 
dow  and  look  out,  but  only  fell  upon  the  couch  which  stood 
near  it,  and  fainted  without  a  moan. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


A  DAY  or  two  after  Mellen's  departure,  Elizabeth,  who 
was  taking  her  solitary  promenade  on  the  veranda,  was 
surprised  by  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Harrington,  who  came  flut 
tering  across  the  lawn  between  two  gentlemen,  with  whom 
she  seemed  carrying  on  a  right  and  left  flirtation.  She 
came  up  the  steps  with  her  flounces  all  in  commotion,  her 
face  wreathed  with  insipid  smiles,  and  her  hair  done  up  in 
a  marvellous  combination  of  puffs,  curls  and  braids  under 
a  tiny  bonnet,  that  hovered  over  them  like  a  butterfly  just 
ready  to  take  wing. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  be  moping  yourself  to  death," 
she  cried,  floating  down  upon  Elizabeth  with  both  hands 
extended;  "so  I  gave  up  everything  and  came  in  the 
first  train.  Now  do  acknowledge  that  I  am  the  kindest 
friend  in  the  world." 

Elizabeth  received  her  cordially,  and  with  a  great  effort 
shook  off  the  gloomy  thoughts  that  had  oppressed  her  all 
the  morning.  Mrs.  Harrington  did  not  heed  this,  she 
was  always  ready  to  welcome  herself,  and  in  haste  to 
secure  her  full  share  of  the  conversation,  and  before 
Elizabeth  could  finish  her  rather  halting  attempts  at  a 
compliment  she  presented  her  companions. 


114       MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS. 

Elizabeth  had  hardly  glanced  at  the  gentlemen  till  then, 
but  now  she  recognized  the  elder  and  more  stately  of  the 
two  as  the  person  who  had  probably  saved  her  life  on  the 
Bloomingdale  road. 

"  I  need  not  ask  a  welcome  for  this  gentleman,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  clasping  both  hands  over 
Mr.  North's  arm,  and  leaning  coquettishly  upon  him. 
He  is  our  preserver,  Mrs.  Mellen, — our  hero." 

North  smiled,  but  rejected  these  compliments  with  an 
impatient  lift  of  the  head. 

"Pray  allow  Mrs.  Mellen  to  forget  that  this  is  not  our 
first  meeting,"  he  said ;  "  so  small  a  service  is  not  worth 
mentioning." 

He  looked  steadily  at  Elizabeth  as  he  spoke.  She 
seemed  to  shrink  from  his  glance,  but  answered, 

"  No,  no  ;  it  was  a  service  I  can  never  forget  —  never 
hope  to  repay." 

"  Now  let  me  beg  a  welcome  for  my  other  friend,"  inter 
posed  Mrs.  Harrington.  "  Mr.  Hawkins.  I  told  him  it 
was  quite  a  charity  to  come  with  me  and  rouse  you  up  a 
little,  besides,  he  is  dying  to  see  your  lovely  sister-in-law." 

Mr.  Hawkins,  a  very  young  Englishman,  was  leaning 
against  a  pillar  of  the  veranda  in  an  attitude  which 
displayed  his  very  stylish  dress  to  the  best  possible 
advantage.  He  appeared  mildly  conscious  that  he  had 
performed  a  solemn  duty  in  making  a  perambulating 
tailor's  block  of  himself,  and  ready  to  receive  any  amount 
of  feminine  admiration  without  resistance.  He  came 
forward  half  a  step  and  fell  back  again. 

"  Such  a  charming  place  you  have  here — quite  a  para 
dise,"  he  drawled,  caressing  the  head  of  his  cane,  which 
was  constantly  between  his  lips.  "  I  trust  —  aw  —  the 
other  angel  of  this  retreat  is  visible  ?  n 

Elizabeth  replied  with  a  faint  smile.  She  had  borne  a 
good  many  similar  afflictions  from  Mrs.  Harrington's  friends, 


MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS.       115 

but  it  was  too  much  that  they  should  be  forced  upon  her 
just  then. 

"  Where  is  Elsie  ? "  cried  the  widow,  with  vivacious 
affection,  shaking  her  gay  plumage  like  a  canary  bird  in  the 
sun. 

"  In  her  own  room,"  replied  Elizabeth.  "  Pray  walk  in, 
and  I  will  call  her." 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  I'll  go ! "  said  Mrs.  Harrington. 
"  Gentlemen,  I  leave  you  with  Mrs.  Mellen  ;  but  no  flirta 
tion,  remember  that ! " 

She  fluttered,  laughed  a  little,  and  shook  her  finger  at  the 
very  young  man,  who  said  "Aw!"  while  North  seemed 
absorbed  in  the  scenery.  Then  away  she  flew,  kissing  her 
hand  to  them,  and  leaving  Elizabeth  to  gather  up  her 
weary  thoughts  and  make  an  effort  at  entertaining  these 
unwelcome  guests. 

Mrs.  Harrington  found  Elsie  yawning  over  a  new  novel, 
and  quite  prepared  to  be  enlivened  by  the  prospect  of  com 
pany. 

"  But  I  can't  go  down  such  a  figure,"  she  said;  "just 
wait  a  minute.  One  gets  so  careless  in  a  house  without 
gentlemen." 

"  Poor  dear !     I  am  sure  you  are  moped." 

"  Oh,  to  death.  It's  dreadful !  "  sighed  Elsie.  "  I  feel 
things  so  acutely.  If  I  only  had  a  little  of  Bessie's 
stoicism  !  " 

"  Yes,  it's  all  very  well ;  but  you  are  made  up  of  feel 
ing,"  said  the  widow.  "  Change  your  dress,  dear.  Oh, 
you've  made  a  conquest  of  a  certain  gentleman." 

"What,  that  Hawkins!  He's  a  fearful  idiot!"  cried 
Elsie.  "  But  he'll  do,  for  want  of  a  better." 

The  sensitive  young  creature  had  quite  forgotten  her  low 
spirits,  but  dressed  herself  in  the  most  becoming  morning 
attire  possible,  and  floated  down  to  greet  the  guests  and 
quite  bewilder  them  with  her  loveliness. 


116       MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS. 

Hawkins  had  been  mortally  afraid  of  Mrs.  Mellen,  but 
with  Elsie  he  could  talk,  and  Elizabeth  sat  quite  stunned 
by  the  flood  of  frivolous  nonsense  and  the  peals  of  senseless 
laughter  which  went  on  about  her.  As  for  Mr.  North, 
Elsie  scarcely  gave  him  a  word  after  the  first  general  salu 
tation. 

After  awhile  Elizabeth  managed  to  escape,  on  the  plea 
that  household  duties  required  her  presence,  and  stole  up  to 
her  room  for  a  little  quiet.  All  at  once  she  heard  Tom 
Fuller's  voice  in  the  hall  ;  opened  her  dressing-room  door, 
and  there  he  stood  in  his  usual  disordered  state. 

"  I've  come  to  say  good-bye,"  were  his  first  words. 

"  Then  you  are  really  going,  Tom  ?"  she  said,  sorrowfully, 
taking  his  hand  and  leading  him  into  the  chamber.  "  Oh, 
how  sorry  I  am." 

"  Yes,  I'm  off  to-morrow,"  he  said,  resolutely,  running 
both  hands  through  his  hair,  and  trying  to  keep  his  courage 
up.  "  A  trip  to  Europe  is  a  splendid  thing,  Bess — I'm  a 
lucky  fellow  to  get  it." 

<'',!  shall  be  all  alone,"  she  said,  mournfully;  "and  I 
had  depended  on  you  so  much." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Tom,  "  It's  good  of  you  to  miss  me — no 
body  else  will !  But  there,  Bessie,  don't  you  set  me  off!  I 
wanted  to  bid  you  good-bye — I — I — well,  I'm  a  confounded 
fool,  but  I  thought  I'd  like  to  see  her  just  once  more." 

<;  And  those  tiresome  people  are  here,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Harrington  and  two  men  she  has  brought  to 
Bpend  the  day — one  of  them  is  the  person  who  checked  our 
horses  that  day." 

"  I  thought  I  heard  the  widow's  voice  as  I  came 
through  the  hall,"  said  Tom.  "  Well,  well,  it's  better  so  ! 
You  see  I  don't  want  to  make  a  donkey  of  myself." 

<k  Tom,  you  are  the  best  creature  in  the  world,"  cried 
Elizabeth. 


MRS.     HARRINGTON'S      FRIENDS.          117 

"Oh,  Lord  bless  you,  no,"  said  Tom,  rubbing  his  fore 
head  in  a  disconsolate  way  ;  "I  ain't  good;  there's  nothing 
like  that  about  me.  'Pon  my  word,  I'm  quite  shocked 
lately  to  see  what  an  envious,  bad-hearted  old  wretch  I'm 
getting  to  be." 

"  We  won't  go  downstairs  yet,"  said  Elizabeth  ;  "  sit 
down  here  and  let's  have  a  comfortable  talk,  like  old  times, 
Tom." 

"Well,  no,  I  guess  not,  thank  you — it's  very  kind  of 
you,"  returned  he,  getting  very  red.  "You  see  I  can't 
stay  but  an  hour — I  must  take  the  next  train,  for  I've  lots 
of  things  to  do." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  would  spend  the  night." 

"  Now,  don't  ask  me — I  can't — it  wouldn't  be  wise  if  I 
could,"  cried  Tom,  giving  his  hair  an  unmerciful  combing 
with  his  fingers. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  regarding  him  with  womanly  pity ; 
"  perhaps  not.  And  you  would  like  to  go  down  stairs  ?" 

"  I'm  a  fool  to  wish  it,"  he  answered  ;  "  those  fine  people 
will  only  laugh  at  me,  and  I  know  when  I  see  that  magni- 
fico  and  his  popinjay  friend  about  Elsie  I  shall  want  to 
wring  their  conceited  necks.  But  I'll  go — oh,  it's  no  use 
telling  lies!  You  understand  just  what  a  fool  I  am — I 
came  because  I  feel  as  if  I  must  see  her  once  more  ! " 

Tom  was  twisting  his  hat  in  both  hands,  his  features 
worked  in  the  attempt  he  made  to  control  his  agitation  ;  but 
Elizabeth  loved  him  too  well  for  any  notice  of  his  odd  man 
ner — she  was  entirely  absorbed  in  sympathy  for  his  trouble. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  Tom  ! "  she  said,  "  I  do  hope  absence — the 
change — will  do  you  good." 

"  Yes,"  he  broke  in,  with  a  strangled  whistle  that  began 
as  a  groan  ;  "  yes,  of  course,  thank  you — oh,  no  doubt  ! 
You  see,  there's  no  knowing  what  good  may  come.  But 
Lord  bless  you,  Bess,  if  the  old  ship  would  only  sink  and 
land  me  safe  as  many  fathoms  under  suit  water  as  was  con- 


118       MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS. 

venient,  it  would  be  about  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  me." 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Tom  ;  you  can't  think  how  it  pains  me." 

"  Well,  I  won't— there,  I'm  all  right  now  !  Ti-rol-de- 
rol !"  and  Tom  actually  tried  to  sing.  "I  say,  Bessie,  she 
never — she  don't  seem,  you  know — ?" 

"  What,  Tom  ?  " 

"  To  be  sorry  I  was  going,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Elsie  ?  She  has  been  so  engrossed  with  her  brother's 
journey " 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  Tom  broke  in ;  "  oh,  it's  not  to  be  ex 
pected — nobody  that  wasn't  a  flounder  ever  would  have 
asked !  Ri-tol-de-rol !  I'm  a  little  hoarse  this  morning, 
but  it's  no  matter — I  only  want  to  show  I'm  not  put  about, 
you  know — that  is,  not  much." 

He  moved  uneasily  about  the  chamber,  upset  light  chairs 
and  committed  disasters  generally  ;  but  all  the  while  looked 
resolute  as  possible,  and  kept  up  his  attempt  at  a  song  in  a 
mournful  quaver. 

"  Well,  I  can't  stay,"  he  said  ;  "  I  mustn't  lose  the  train  1 
Now,  don't  feel  uncomfortable,  Bessie ;  Lord  bless  you,  I 
shall  soon  be  all  right — seasickness  is  good  for  my  disease, 
you  know,"  and  Tom  tried  to  laugh,  but  it  was  a  dismal 
failure  compared  with  his  former  light-heartedness. 

Elizabeth  saw  that  he  was  restless  to  get  once  more  into 
Elsie's  presence,  painful  as  the  interview  must  be  to  him,  so 
she  smoothed  his  hair,  straightened  his  necktie  and  accom 
panied  him  downstairs. 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  delightful  Tom  Fuller !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Harrington,  pleased  to  see  any  man  arrive,  for  Elsie  had 
carried  off  both  her  victims  into  the  window-seat,  and  was 
making  them  dizzy  with  her  smiles  and  brilliant  nonsense. 

"  I — I'm  delighted  to  see  you,"  cried  Tom,  frantically, 
thrusting  his  hat  in  her  face,  in  a  wild  delusion  that  he  was 
offering  his  hand,  for  he  was  so  upset  by  the  sight  of  Elsie 


MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS.       119 

that    he  felt  as  if   rapidly  going  up  in  an   unmanageable 
balloon. 

"  I'll  just  say  good-bye  at  the  same  time,"  pursued  Tom  J 
"for  Fin  rather  in  a  hurry,  thank  you." 

"  Why,  you're  not  going  away  directly  I "  cried  the 
widow.  "  Oh,  you  must  stay  and  entertain  me.  Elsie  has 
left  me  quite  desolate.'7 

"  Thank  you ;  it's  of  no  importance ;  I'm  not  quite  on 
my  sea  legs  yet,"  gasped  Tom,  growing  so  dizzy  that  he  was 
possessed  of  a  mad  idea  he  was  already  on  shipboard. 

"  Why,  you  look  quite  white  and  ill,"  said  the  widow. 

"  Yes ;  oh,  not  any,  thank  you,"  cried  Tom,  stepping  on 
the  widow's  dress,  dancing  off  it  and  dealing  Elizabeth  a 
blow  with  his  hat. 

Mrs.  Mellen  felt  herself  grow  sick  at  heart  j  she  glanced 
at  Elsie  ;  the  girl  was  laughing  gaily,  and  chatting  away 
with  young  Hawkins,  regardless  of  Tom's  presence- 
North  stood  by,  looking  at  her  with  his  deep,  earnest  eyes, 
as  if  searching  her  character  in  all  its  shallow  depths. 
Elizabeth  felt  bitterly  indignant,  and  exclaimed — 

"  Elsie,  my  cousin  has  come  to  wish  us  good-bye,  if  you 
can  spare  him  a  moment." 

"  So  you  are  really  going  ? "  called  Elsie.  "  You 
oughtn't  to  run  away  so.  It's  so  unkind  of  you." 

Tom  lifted  his  eyes  mournful!}71  to  her  face. 

"  My  lap  is  so  full  of  flowers,"  cried  Elsie,  glancing  down 
at  a  mass  of  roses  that  glowed  in  the  folds  of  her  morning 
dress,  "  I  can't  possibly  get  up  ;  come  and  shake  hands 
with  me." 

It  was  well  for  Tom  that  Mrs.  Harrington  seized  his  arm, 
and  afforded  him  a  few  instants  to  regain  his  composure, 
while  she  asked  all  sorts  of  questions  about  his  journey 
and  its  object. 

"  Mary  Harrington,"  said  Elsie,  "  Just  let  Mr.  Fuller 
come  here ;  you  mustn't  assault  peaceable  men  in  that 
way." 


120       MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS. 

"La,  dear,  what  odd  things  you  do  say!  I  was  just 
talking  with  Mr.  Fuller  about  his  journey." 

Elsie  glanced  at  North  and  whispered  to  his  companion, 
who  laughed  in  a  very  polite  way.  Tom  knew  it  was  at 
him,  and  grew  more  red  and  awkward.  Elizabeth  recog 
nised  the  silly  insult,  and  darted  a  look  of  such  indignation 
towards  the  offender  that  the  youth  was  quite  subdued, 
although  it  had  no  effect  whatever  on  Elsie. 

She  rose,  dropping  her  flowers  over  the  carpet,  put  her 
hand  in  Mr.  North's  arm,  left  Hawkins  to  follow,  and  caress 
his  cane  in  peace,  and  moved  towards  the  group. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Fuller,"  said  she,  touching  his  shoulder 
with  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  "If  you  bring  me  a  beautiful 
lava  bracelet  perhaps  I'll  forgive  you  for  going  away, — and 
some  pink  coral, — don't  forget." 

Tom  was  a  sight  to  behold  between  confusion,  distress, 
and  his  superhuman  efforts  to  be  calm. 

"I'll  bring  you  twenty,"  said  he,  recklessly. 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  overpowering,"  laughed  Elsie. 
"  Good-bye.  I'm  sure  you'll  look  touching  when  you  are 
seasick." 

"  He !  he  ! "  giggled  Hawkins,  as  well  as  he  could  for 
the  cane. 

Tom  turned  on  him  like  a  tiger. 

"  You'll  ruin  your  digestion  if  you  laugh  so  much  over 
that  tough  meal,"  said  he,  and  for  once  Tom  had  the  laugh 
on  his  side. 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Elsie,"  he  continued,  determined  to  get 
away  while  he  could  still  preserve  a  decent  show  of  com 
posure  ;  "  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  Tom  Fuller,  good-bye  ! " 

She  flung  some  of  the  flowers  she  was  holding,  at  him. 
Torn  caught  them  and  hurried  out  of  the  room,  pressing  the 
fragrant  blossoms  against  his  waistcoat,  and  smothering  a 
mortal  paug. 


MRS.    HARRINGTON'S    FRIENDS.       121 

Elizabeth  followed  him  into  the  hall,  but  their-  parting 
was  a  brief  one,  spoken  amid  bursts  of  laughter  from 
within,  and  in  a  broken  voice  by  the  warm  hearted  young 
fellow. 

"  Good-bye,  Bessie — God  bless  you." 

"  You'll  write  to  me,  Tom  ?     I  shall  miss  you  so." 

"  Oh,  don't  5  it  ain't  worth  while  !  I'll  write  of  course  ; 
good-bye." 

Tom  dashed  down  the  steps  and  fled  along  the  avenue  in 
mad  haste,  and  Elizabeth  returned  to  her  guests. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  day  would  never  come  to  an 
end.  Mrs.  Harrington  and  Elsie  scarcely  heeded  her,  but 
fluttered  from  room  to  room  with  the  two  guests,  doing 
the  honors  with  great  spirit,  and  urging  them  to  extend 
their  visit  some  days.  Elizabeth  was  offended  at  the  reck 
less  offer  of  hospitality. 

Elsie  saw  this  and  whispered,  "  It  wasn't  my  fault ; 
don't  blame  me,  dear  !  Grant  is  gone,  and  he  told  you  not 
to  be  cross  with  me." 

So  Elizabeth  controlled  herself;  perhaps  the  girl  had 
done  all  this  harm  unconsciously.  She  would  believe  so,  at 
legist;  no  cloud  must  come  between  them.  These  almost 
strange  men  were  invited,  and  must  remain  if  they  so 
decided. 

As  if  she  had  not  enough  to  bear  already,  Elizabeth's 
inflictions  were  increased  towards  the  dinner  hour  by  the 
arrival  of  a  Mr.  Khodes  and  his  daughter,  who  lived  at  an 
easy  distance,  and  thought  it  a  neighborly  and  kind  thing 
for  them  to  drop  in  to  dinner  with  Mrs.  Mellen,  and  con 
sole  her  in  her  loneliness. 


122  THE     WIDOW'S     FLIRTATION. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


MRS.  HARRINGTON  plunged  into  her  natural  element  at 
once ;  Mr.  Rhodes  was  a  rich  widower,  vulgar  and  pompous 
as  could  well  be  imagined ;  but  that  made  no  difference,  the 
lady  spread  her  flimsy  net  in  that  direction  and  put  on  all 
her  fascinations  at  once,  leaving  the  younger  men  to  their 
fate.  This  was  splendid  sport  to  Elsie,  for  Miss  Jemima, 
the  daughter,  a  gaunt,  peaked-nosed  female,  had  been  Miss 
Jemima  a  good  many  more  years  than  she  found  agreeable, 
and  when  any  woman  ventured  even  to  look  at  her  stout 
parent,  she  was  up  in  arms  at  once  and  ready  to  do  battle 
against  the  threatened  danger,  resolved  that  one  man  at 
least  should  own  her  undivided  dominion,  even  if  that  man 
was  her  pompous  old  father.  Mr.  Rhodes  was  at  once  cap 
tivated  by  the  widow's  flattery,  and  Elsie  mischievously 
increased  Jemima's  growing  irritation  by  whispers  full  of 
honied  malice,  that  almost  drove  that  single  lady  distracted. 

"  Quite  a  flirtation,  I  declare,"  said  she  ;  "  really,  Miss 
Jemima,  widows  are  very  dangerous,  and  she  is  so  fasci 
nating." 

"  It's  ridiculous  for  a  woman  to  go  on  so,"  returned  the 
spinster,  shaking  her  head  in  vehement  agitation  ;  "  you 
may  just  tell  her  it's  no  use,  my  pa  isn't  likely  to  be  caught 
with  chaff  like  that." 

"  Oh,  but  Mrs.  Harrington  is  ccr   idered  irresistible." 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  it  for  my  part,"  retorted  Jemima  J 
"  She's  a  tolerable  specimen  of  antique  oainting  j  but  my 
pa  isn't  given  to  the  fine  arts." 

"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Harrington,"  called  Elsie,  "I  wish  you  could 
induce  Mr.  Rhodes  to  give  us  a  picnic  in  his  woods  before 
the  weather  gets  too  cold — they  are  delightful.  I  daren't 
ask  him,  but  you  might  venture,  I'm  sure." 


THE      WIDOW'S      FLIRTATION.  123 

Miss  Jemima  looked  as  if  she  had  three  minds  to  strangle 
the  pretty  torment  on  the  spot. 

"  Excuse  me,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  I  am  sure  I 
could  have  no  influence." 

"  Oh,  you  painted  humbug  !"  muttered  Jemima. 

"  I  should  be  delighted — charmed  !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Rhodes.  "  Madam,  it  would  be  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten 
that  honored  my  poor  house  with  your  presence,"  he  broke 
off,  puffing  till  the  brass  buttons  on  his  coat  shook  like 
hailstones. 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  dreadful  flatterer,  I  see  !  "  answered  the 
widow,  quite  , aware  of  Jemima's  rage,  and  delighted  to 
increase  it. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  stout  man,  "  on  the  honor  of  a  gen 
tleman,  I  never  flatter.  Miss  Elsie,  defend  me." 

"  Not  unless  you  promise  to  get  up  the  picnic,"  said  the 
little  witch.  "  Miss  Jemima  is  anxious  to  have  it " 

"  Me,"  broke  in  the  acid  damsel,  unable  to  endure  any 
thing  more,  "  I  am  sure  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing, 
don't  speak  for  me,  if  you  please." 

"  But  you  will  be  delighted,  you  know  you  will." 

"  Pa's  got  to  go  to  Philadelphia,"  said  Jemima,  sharply. 

"  But  I  could  defer  the  trip,  Mirny,"  said  her  parent, 
appealingly. 

"  Business  is  business,  you  always  say,"  retorted  the 
damsel. 

Elsie  gave  a  little  scream. 

"  Why,  how  odd,"  said  she.  "  Mrs.  Harrington  goes  to 
Philadelphia  next  week-f^ou  can  escort  her,  Mr.  Rhodes, 
she  is  a  sad  coward  about  travelling  alone." 

"  I  shall  be  deligj  "ted,"  said  the  widower,  "  delighted." 

Jemrma  fairly  groaned  ;  she  mad«  a  strangling  effort  to 
turn  her  agony  into  a  cough,  but  it  began  as  a  groan  ;  both 
Elsie  and  Mra  Harrington  were  convinced  of  that,  and  it 
delighted  them  beyond  measure. 


124  THE      WIDOW'S      FLIRTATION. 

"  It  would  be  very,  very  kind  of  Mr.  Khodes,"  said  the 
widow,  "  but  Elsie,  you  are  inconsiderate,  to  think  of  him 
taking  so  much  trouble  only  for  us,  and  I  a  stranger." 

"  It  would  be  an  honor  and  delight  to  me,"  insisted 
Rhodes. 

Jemima  resolutely  arose  from  her  chair,  and  planted  her 
self  in  a  seat  directly  in  front  of  her  parent  —  ho  could  not 
avoid  her  eye  then  —  the  wrath  burning  there  made  him 
hesitate  and  stammer. 

"  Miss  Jemima,"  said  Elsie,  "  come  and  look  at  my  ger 
aniums  ;  I  think  they  are  finer  even  than  yours." 

But  nothing  short  of  a  torpedo  exploding  ujider  her  chair 
would  have  made  the  heroic  damsel  quit  her  post,  not  for 
one  instant  would  she  leave  her  parent  exposed  to  the  wiles 
of  that  abominable  widow. 

"  My  dear,  I  am  so  tired,"  said  she,  "  you  must  excuse 
me." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  and  lie  down,"  persisted  Elsie. 

"  You  look  fatigued,"  said  Mrs-.  Harrington. 

"  Do  I,  ma'arn  ;  you're  kind,  I'm  sure,"  snapped  the 
spinster,  trying  to  smile.  "I  never  lie  down  in  the  day 
time  ;  I'm  very  comfortable  where  I  am,  thank  you." 

She  might  be  very  perfectly  at  ease  herself,  but  she  made 
her  father  very  uncomfortable,  while  Elsie  and  the  widow 
never  gave  over  teasing  for  a  single  instant,  till  Elizabeth 
returned  to  the  room. 

Luckily  dinner  was  announced,  and  the  asperity  of  Miss 
Jemima's  feelings  softened  a  little  by  that,  especially  as  she 


reflected  that  her  father  woul<fcAe  obliged  to  lead  Mrs. 
Mellen  into  the  dining-room.  But  that  dreadful  Elsie 
destroyed  even  that  forlorn  hope. 

"  Bessie,"  said  she,  "  we  must  ask  Mr.  Khodes  to  play 
host  and  sit  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  so  he  shall  lead  Mrs. 
Harrington  in." 

Even  Elizabeth  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  little 


THE      WIDOW'S      FLIRTATION.  125 

elf's  malicious  craft,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  said. 
The  wretched  Jemima  grew  fairly  white  with  rage,  but  she 
was  obliged  to  control  herself,  and  the  dinner  passed  off  in 
the  most  social,  neighborly  fashion. 

At  a  very  early  hour  Miss  Jemima  insisted  upon  return 
ing  home,  but  Elsie  had  a  parting  shaft  ready  for  her. 

"  I  have  persuaded  Mrs.  Harrington  and  these  gentlemen 
to  stay  over  to-morrow,"  said  she.  "  May  I  promise  them 
that  we'll  all  drive  to  your  house  and  take  luncheon,  Miss 
Jemima,  by  way  of  returning  your  visit." 

The  spinster  was  compelled  to  express  her  gratification. 
She  could  do  no  less,  after  having  invited  herself  and  her 
father  to  dinner  at  Piney  Cove,  but  her  face  was  a  perfect 
study  while  the  pleasant  words  fell  from  her  compressed 
lips,  like  bullets  from  a  mould. 

"  We  shall  be  in  ecstasy,"  said  Mr.  Rhodes. 

"  You  will  be  in  New  York,"  retorted  Jemima  j  "you 
have  to  go  early  in  the  morning." 

"  My  dear,  the  day  after  will  do  as  well." 

"  Now,  pa,  you  know  you  said " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Jemima,"  broke  in  Elsie,  "  I  shall  think  you 
don't  want  us  to  come  !  " 

"  And  I,"  said  the  widow,  "  shall  be  mortally  offended 
if  Mr.  Rhodes  runs  away  the  very  first  time  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  visiting  his  house." 

"Of  course,  of  course!"  said  the  stout  man.  "My 
daughter,  Mirny,  is  a  great  business  woman — girl,  I  mean 
• — but  on  an  occasion  like  this  even  business  must  wait. 
Ladies,  I  go  home  to  dream  of  the  honor  to-morrow  will 
bring." 

"  Well,  pa,  if  we're  going  at  all,  I  think  we'd  better 
start,"  cried  the  spinster ;  "  we  are  keeping  the  horses  in 
ihe  cold." 

She  made  her  farewells  very  brief  and  carried  off  her 
parent  in  triumph,  darting  a  last  defiant  look  at  the  widow 
as  she  passed. 


126  THE      WIDOW'3      FLIRTATION. 

The  moment  they  were  gone  Elsie  went  into  convulsions 
of  laughter,  and  clapping  her  pretty  white  hands  like  a 
child,  cried  out : 

"  She'll  poison  you,  Mary  Harrington,  I  know  she  will." 

"  My  dear,  I'll  eat  luncheon  before  I  go." 

Even  Elizabeth  was  forced  to  laugh  at  the  absurd  scene. 
Elsie  mimicked  the  spinster,  arid  turned  the  affair  in  so 
many  ridiculous  ways  that  it  afforded  general  amusement 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

The  whole  party  did  drive  over  to  Mr.  Khodes's  house 
the  next  day,  and  Miss  Jemima  was  tormented  out  of  her 
very  senses  ;  while  Mr.  Rhodes  was  made  to  appear  ridicu 
lous  as  only  a  pompous  old  widower,  with  a  keen  appetite 
for  flattery,  can  be  made  look. 

The  question  of  the  picnic  came  up  again,  but  Elizabeth 
settled  that  matter  by  refusing  to  have  any  share  in  it. 
She  was  in  no  spirits  for  such  amusement,  and  had  decided 
to  refuse  all  invitations  during  Mr.  Mellen's  absence. 

From  that  da}'-  Miss  Jemima  always  felt  a  liking  for 
Mrs.  Meilen,  who  had  so  quietly  come  to  her  rescue,  and 
ahe  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  to  whom  the  claret 
would  not  have  proved  a  fatal  dose  if  the  spinster's  sharp 
glances  or  secret  wishes  could  have  had  their  due  effect. 

From  some  caprice  Mrs.  Harrington  prolonged  her  stay 
at  Piuey  Cove  for  an  entire  week,  and  all  this  time  she  pro 
tested  against  either  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  accompa 
nied  her  there  returning  without  her.  Elsie,  in  her  care 
less,  childish  way,  seconded  the  widow,  so  these  two  men 
dropped  into  such  easy  relations  with  the  family  that  it 
seemed  difficult  to  assign  any  period  to  their  visit.  Noth 
ing  could  be  quieter  than  Mr.  North's  mode  of  life  during 
his  sojourn  at  the  house.  If  he  joined  in  the  light  conver 
sation  so  prevalent  at  all  times,  it  was  with  a  quiet  grace 
that  modified  it  without  offering  rebuke.  He  seemed  to 
give  no  preference  to  the  society  of  any  one  of  the  three 


THE      WIDOW'S      FLIRTATION.  127 

ladies,  but  most  frequently  attended  Mrs.  Harrington  in 
her  walks  and  rides.  To  Elsie  he  was  reserved,  almost 
paternal,  and  in  his  society  the  young  girl  would  become 
grave,  sometimes  thoughtful,  as  if  his  presence  depressed 
her  childish  flow  of  spirits. 

If  North  ever  had  more  than  ordinary  intercourse  with 
his  hostess  no  one  witnessed  it,  yet  a  close  observer  might 
have  seen  that  he  watched  her  with  a  quiet  vigilance  that 
bespoke  some  deep  interest  in  her  movements.  Those  who 
have  seen  this  very  man  creep  into  the  mansion  house  at 
night  and  wander  cautiously  from  room  to  room,  as  if  to  fix 
a  plan  of  the  dwelling  in  his  mind,  will  understand  that  his 
visit,  which  seemed  so  purely  accidental,  had  its  object ; 
but  no  one  could  have  discovered,  by  look  or  movement, 
what  that  object  was. 

At  last  the  party  broke  up  and  returned  to  the  city. 
Elsie  went  with  them.  At  first  Mrs.  Mellen  opposed  her 
going,  but  the  pretty  creature  was  resolute  enough  when 
her  own  wishes  were  concerned,  and  would  listen  to  no 
opposition. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  live  in  this  stupid  place,  like  a  nun 
in  a  convent,  just  because  my  brother  desires  to  amuse  him 
self  in  California,"  she  said,  when  Elizabeth  would  have 
dissuaded  her  from  leaving  home.  "  I  tell  you,  Grant 
would  not  wish  it.  I  am  not  married  and  obliged  to  shut 
myself  up  and  play  proper  like  you.  It's  downright  cruel 
of  you  wanting  me  to  stay  here.  I'm  half  dead  with  griev 
ing  already.  The  house  isn't  like  home  without  Grant. 
At  any  rate,  I'm  going ;  you  are  not  my  mother ! " 

She  carried  her  point  j  Elizabeth  had  no  absolute 
authority  which  could  enforce  obedience  on  a  creature  at 
once  so  stubborn  and  so  volatile.  So  she  made  no  further 
opposition,  fearing  that  anything  like  violent  measures 
might  prove  distasteful  to  her  husband. 


128  STARTING     FOR    THE     PIC-NIC. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

STARTING   FOR   THE   PIC-NIC. 

BUT  one  day  now  remained  of  Mrs.  Harrington's  unwel 
come  visit.  The  whole  party,  except  Elizabeth,  were  to 
start  for  New  York  in  the  morning,  where  Mrs.  Harrington 
Lad  resolved  to  open  a  splendid  succession  of  receptions  and 
parties  in  Elsie's  behalf. 

This  last  day  Elsie  declared  should  be  the  crowning 
pleasure  of  Mrs.  Harrington's  visit.  They  would  ride 
down  to  the  sea-side  tavern  on  horseback,  have  a  chowder 
party  on  the  precipice  behind  it,  looking  out  upon  the  ocean, 
and  return  home  at  dusk  or  by  moonlight,  as  caprice  might 
determine.  Mr.  Rhodes  and  Miss  Jemima  were  to  be 
included,  and  some  of  the  colored  servants  were  forwarded 
early  in  the  morning  to  superintend  the  arrangements. 

The  dew  was  hanging  thick  and  brighten  the  lawn  when 
Mr.  Rhodes  and  his  daughter  rode  up  to  the  Piney  Cove 
mansion.  A  group  of  horses  were  gathered  in  front  of  tho 
veranda,  and  a  little  crowd  of  ladies,  in  long  sweeping 
dresses,  gauntlet  gloves  and  pretty  hats,  stood  chatting 
around  the  door. 

Mr.  Rhodes  preferred  to  sit  on  his  handsome  bay  horse, 
and  wait  for  the  party  to  arrange  itself,  for  it  was  rather 
inconvenient  for  him  to  mount  and  dismount  the  high-step 
ping  beast  oftener  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  As  for 
Jemima,  she  rode  a  long-limbed,  slender-bodied  horse,  and 
sat  him  in  grim  dignity,  as  the  dames  of  old  occupied  their 
high-backed  chairs.  Her  beaver  hat  towered  high,  and  the 
stiff  tuft  of  feathers  that  rose  from  it  in  front  gave  a  dash 
of  the  military  to  her  usually  defiant  aspect,  grimly  im 
posing. 

She  drew  her  horse  up  to  the  front  steps,  and  sat  vciously 


STARTING      FOR     THE      PIC-NIC.  129 

regarding  the  city  widow,  as  that  lady  shook  out  the  folds 
of  her  riding-skirt,  pulled  the  gauntlets  to  a  tighter  fit  on 
her  shapely  hands,  and  kept  her  cornelian-headed  riding- 
whip  in  a  constant  state  of  vibration,  for  the  benefit  of  that 
evidently  too  admiring  widower  on  the  great  bay  horse. 

The  party  mounted  at  last,  and  cantered  in  a  gay  caval 
cade  across  the  lawn,  leaving  the  mansion  behind  them 
almost  in  solitude.  It  was  a  lovely  day,  bright  with  sun 
shine,  and  freshened  by  a  cool  breeze  from  the  ocean.  Mrs. 
Mellon  that  day  seemed  among  the  most  joyous  of  tho 
party.  Whatever  care  had  hitherto  possessed  her  she  evi 
dently  threw  off;  her  sweet  voice  rang  out  pleasantly,  and 
her  face  grew  beautiful  in  the  animation  of  the  moment. 

For  a  while  the  party  moved  on  at  random  ;  but  when 
the  road  branched  off  into  a  long  tract  of  the  woodland  the 
equestrians  naturally  broke  up  into  pairs,  and,  either  by 
chance  or  design,  Mr.  North  joined  Elizabeth,  who  was  rid 
ing  a  little  in  advance.  It  was  almost  the  first  time  that 
he  had  seemed  to  prefer  her  society  during  his  whole  visit, 
and  this  movement  naturally  created  a  little  observation. 
Elsie  looked  after  the  splendid  pair  as  they  rode  under  the 
overhanging  trees,  with  an  expression  of  subdued  wonder 
in  her  blue  eyes,  which  amounted  almost  to  dismay.  Mrs. 
Harrington  laughed  with  as  much  meaning  as  her  small 
share  of  intellect  could  concentrate  on  one  idea,  and  said  in. 
a  low  voice  to  Elsie  : 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  they  had  met  before  ?  She  has  been 
playing  dutiful  like  a  martyr.  See  how  she  breaks  out 
now.  Look  !  look  !  she  is  turning  down  a  cross  road;  it  is 
a  mile  farther  round." 

"  We  will  go  on  direct/'  said  Elsie.  "  If  my  brother's 
wife  chooses  to  ride  off  alone  with  any  man  through  the 
woods,  let  her.  It  was  decided  that  we  should  take  the 
highway,  and  we  will." 

Elsie  spoke  with  decision,  a  cold  light  came  into  her  blue 
8 


130          STARTING      FOR      THE      PIC-NIC. 

eyes,  and  the  expression  about  her  lips  was  almost  stern ; 
for  a  moment  the  girl  was  transfigured  before  her  friend. 

At  the  cross  roads  there  was  a  little  debate.  Miss  Je 
mima  turned  her  horse  in  the  direction  Elizabeth  had 
taken.  The  generally  obedient  papa  was  following  this 
lead,  when  Mr.  Hawkins  was  sent  forward  to  arrest  him. 

"  Straight  ahead,  that's  the  programme,"  he  called  out, 
taking  the  gold  head  of  his  riding-whip  from  his  mouth 
long  enough  to  speak  clearly,  "  Miss  Elsie  told  me  to  call 
you  back." 

"  And  the — the  other  lady,"  stammered  Khodes,  flushing 
red,  to  the  intense  scorn  of  the  spinster. 

"  Oh,  she's  gone  ahead." 

"  Then  I  take  this  way,"  exclaimed  Jemima,  with 
emphasis  ;  "  come,  pa." 

Mr.  Rhodes  had  wheeled  his  horse  half  round,  and  was 
casting  irresolute  looks  towards  the  two  ladies  riding  slowly 
along  the  shady  road. 

"  But,  daughter,  we  cannot  leave  them  to  ride  on  alone." 

"  This — this — person  is  with  them,  and  they  seem  to 
count  him  as  a  man,"  answered  Jemima,  with  a  gesture  of 
intense  scorn. 

Mrs.  Harrington  here  was  seen  to  draw  up  her  horse  in 
the  shade  of  a  huge  chestnut,  and  playfully  beckon  the 
widower  with  her  whip. 

"  Jemima,  I  must.  It  would  be  underbred,"  cried  the 
desperate  man,  riding  away  to  the  enemy. 

Jemima  sat  upon  her  horse,  petrified  with  amazement. 
Her  father  looked  anxiously  back  when  he  reached  the 
widow.,  with  sad  forebodings  of  the  tempest  that  would  fol 
low,  but  there  the  spinster  sat  at  the  cross  roads  like  an 
equestrian  statue. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  widow,  touching  him  playfully 
with  her  whip.  "  Elsie  is  getting  impatient.  Now  for  a 


STARTING     FOR     THE      PI  C-N I C.  131 

Her  spirited  horse  dashed  forward  at  a  run.  The  pon 
derous  steed  of  the  widower  thundered  after,  making  the 
forest  reverberate  with  the  heavy  fall  of  his  hoofs. 

Mr.  Hawkins  fell  into  a  dainty  amble,  and  away  the 
whole  party  swept  into  the  green  shadows  of  the  woods. 

Jemima  looked  right  and  she  looked  left.  Should  she 
ride  on  and  leave  her  pa  in  the  hands  of  that  designing 
creature  ?  Perish  the  thought,  better  anything  than  that ! 
She  touched  her  horse.  It  turned  sharply,  and  swept  down 
the  highway  like  a  greyhound.  She  struck  him  on  the 
flank,  then  the  tiny  lash  of  her  whip  quivered  about  his 
ears  till  he  dashed  on,  flinging  back  dust  and  stones  with 
his  hoofs. 

The  party  was  riding  fast.  Mr.  Hawkins  by  Elsie,  Mr. 
Rhodes  close  to  the  widow — so  close,  that  somehow  her 
right  hand,  whip  and  all,  had  got  entangled  with  his. 
They  were  on  a  curve  of  the  road,  around  which  Jemima 
came  sweeping  like  a  torrent.  With  a  single  bound  her 
horse  rushed  in  between  them,  leaving  the  widow's  gaunt 
let  glove  in  the  grasp  of  that  frightened  man,  and  the 
cornelian-headed  whip  deep  in  the  mud  of  the  highway. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken.  The  widower  sank  abjectly 
down  in  his  saddle,  and  with  his  apprehensive  eyes 
turned  sideways  on  the  spinster,  surreptitiously  thrust 
the  stray  glove  into  the  depths  of  his  pocket.  The 
widow,  convulsed  with  mingled  laughter  and  rage,  gave 
no  doubt  of  genuine  color  now,  for  her  face  was  crimson. 
Thus,  like  two  prisoners  under  military  guard,  they 
moved  on,  with  Jemima  riding  in  grim  vigilance  between 
them. 

The  spot  chosen  for  the  chowder-party  commanded  a 
splendid  sea  view  and  a  broad  landscape  in  the  back 
ground,  of  which  the  distant  mansion  of  Piney  Cove  was 
a  principal  object.  It  was  an  abrupt  precipice,  clothed, 
except  in  the  very  front,  with  a  rich  growth  of  treoa  j 


132          STARTING     FOR     THE      PIC-NIC. 

splendid  masses  of  white  pine  and  clumps  of  hemlock 
darkened  with  the  deep  green  of  their  foliage  such  forest 
trees  as  cast  their  leaves  from  autumn  till  spring  time. 
The  broken  precipice  in  front  was  tufted  here  and  there 
with  clumps  of  barberry  bushes  and  other  wild  shrubs, 
which  might  have  aided  a  daring  adventurer  to  climb  up 
it,  had  the  temptation  been  sufficient. 

Between  this  precipice  and  the  shores  of  the  ocean, 
stood  the  little  tavern  we  have  before  spoken  of,  from 
which  the  negroes  of  Piney  Point  were  now  bringing 
up  a  huge  iron  pot  wherein  to  cook  the  chowder,  which 
would  be  nothing  if  not  culminated  in  the  open  air,  over 
a  fire  of  sticks,  and  eaten  beneath  the  hemlock  trees. 

A  bridle  path  led  to  the  top  of  this  precipice,  winding 
along  the  back  slope  of  the  hill,  and  by  this  route  the 
highway  party  rode  to  the  summit,  some  fifteen  minutes 
before  Elizabeth  and  Mr.  North  joined  them.  Whatever 
evil  feelings  had  sprung  up  on  the  road,  at  least  a  majority 
of  the  company  resolved  to  enjoy  themselves  now.  Jemi 
ma  entered  heart  and  soul  into  the  preparations,  keeping 
a  sharp  eye  on  her  father  all  the  time.  He,  poor  man, 
scarcely  required  her  vigilance,  for  when  a  chowder  was 
to  be  concocted,  the  stout  man  forgot  all  his  gallant 
weaknesses,  and  gave  his  whole  being  up  to  the  impor 
tant  subject. 

Mrs.  Harrington  had  no  great  talent  for  cookery,  and 
feeling  beaten  and  awed  by  Jemima's  dashing  general 
ship,  hovered  around  the  outskirts  of  the  preparations, 
and  flirting  a  little  with  Hawkins,  from  languid  habit, 
rather  than  any  special  regard  for  the  young  gentleman. 


FACE     TO      FACE.  133 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FACE    TO    FACE. 

DURING  the  bustle  of  these  preparations,  Elizabeth, 
Mr.  North  and  Elsie  had  dropped  out  of  the  party  and 
wandered  off,  no  doubt,  into  the  shady  places  of  the 
woods;  no  one  had  observed  how  or  where  they  went. 
Hawkins  had  been  with  Elsie  at  first,  but  she  had  sent 
him  down  a  ravine  for  some  tinted  ash  leaves,  and  when 
he  came  back  to  the  stone  on  which  she  had  been  sitting, 
it  was  vacant.  Probably  she  had  become  tired  of  wait 
ing,  and  had  gone  in  search  of  the  forest  leaves  herself ; 
as  for  Mrs.  Mellen  arid  North,  of  course  they  were  all 
right  somewhere,  and  would  be  on  hand  safe  enough 
when  the  chowder  was  ready. 

While  Mrs.  Harrington  and  Hawkins  were  talking  in 
this  idle  fashion,  they  sat  on  a  large  ledge  of  rock  that 
crowned  the  very  brink  of  the  precipice ;  and  chancing  to 
look  down,  saw  two  persons  near  the  foot  moving  towards 
the  tavern.  One  they  recognised,  even  from  that  distance, 
to  be  Mr.  North,  for  his  tall,  grand  figure  was  not  to  be 
mistaken.  The  other  was  a  lady  ;  the  dark  riding-dress 
and  floating  plumes  might  belong  to  any  female  of  the 
party,  there  was  no  individuality  in  a  dress  like  that.  The 
couple  had  evidently  found  some  passage  down  the  brow  of 
the  precipice,  for  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  reaoh  the 
spot  where  they  stood  by  any  other  route. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  if  that  isn't  a  sly  pro 
ceeding  ;  what  on  earth  does  it  mean  ?  How  Mrs.  Mellen 
can  drag  her  long  skirts  down  that  hill,  just  to  look  at  a 
common  tavern,  which  she's  seen  a  hundred  times,  I  cannot 
imagine." 

"  Perhaps   they    are    going   down    to    the    beach,"    said 


134  FACE     TO      FACE. 

Hawkins,  who  had  no  more  malice  in  his  composition  than 
a  swallow. 

"No,  no!  they  are  turning  toward  the  house,"  said  the 
widow,  considerably  excited.  "  What  can  they  want 
there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  likely  they  have  gone  in  to  rest.  You  know 
North  lives  there  when  he  comes  on  the  island  to  fish  or 
shoot." 

"  What !  Mr.  North,  he  live  there  and  never  tell  me  ! 
I  thought  he  was  a  perfect  stranger  on  the  island." 

tf  As  to  that,"  answered  Hawkins,  a  little  startled  by  her 
earnestness,  "'  he  only  comes  down  for  a  day  now  and  then. 
It's  nothing  permanent,  I  assure  you." 

"  There  !  there  !  they  have  gone  in  !  "  exclaimed  the 
lady.  "  I  wonder  where  Elsie  is  ;  I  must  tell  Elsie." 

"Why,  what  nonsense!"  answered  Hawkins,  with  some 
spirit ;  "  can't  Mrs.  Mellen  step  into  a  house  to  rest  herself 
a  moment  without  troubling  her  friends  so  terribly  ?  " 

"Just  be  quiet,  Hawkins,  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about,"  answered  the  lady,  keeping  her  gaze  fastened 
on  the  tavern.  *  Turn  an  eye  on  the  house  while  I  look  at 
the  time.  It  must  be  five  minutes  since  they  went  in. 
Dear,  dear,  what  a  world  we  live  in  ! " 

Mrs.  Harrington  kept  the  little  enamelled  watch,  spark 
ling  with  diamonds,  in  her  ungloved  hand  full  ten  minutes, 
only  glancing  from  it  to  the  door  of  the  tavern  in  her  vigi 
lance.  At  the  end  of  that  time  Mr.  North  and  his  com 
panion  came  out  of  the  house  and  disappeared  in  the  under 
growth  which  lay  between  that  and  the  precipice. 

Mrs.  Harrington  watched  some  time  for  them  to  appear 
again,  but  her  curiosity  was  baffled,  and  her  attention  soon 
directed  to  other  objects.  At  last  she  was  aroused  by  Elsie 
coming  suddenly  upon  the  ledge,  flushed,  panting  for  breath 
and  glowing  with  anger.  She  turned  upon  Hawkins  like  a 
spiteful  mockingbird. 


FACE     TO     FACE.  135 

"  A  pretty  escort  you  are,  Mr.  Hawkins,  to  leave  a  lady 
all  alone  in  the  woods.  I  declare,  Mrs.  Harrington,  be  lost 
me  in  one  of  those  dreadful  ravines,  and  I  scrambled  up 
the  wrong  bank  and  have  been  wandering  everywhere, 
climbing  rocks  and  tiring  myself  to  death.  Only  think  of 
dragging  this  long  skirt  over  my  arm  and  tearing  my  way 
through  the  bushes.  I  heard  the  servants  laugh  and  that 
guided  me,  or  I  might  have  been  roaming  the  woods  now." 

"  My  poor  dear,"  said  the  widow,  full  of  compassion, 
tl  how  heated  and  wearied  you  look  !  Hawkins,  can't  you 
find  something  to  fan  her  with  ?  " 

Hawkins  broke  off  a  branch  full  of  leaves  and  offered  to 
fan  her  with  it.  But  she  snatched  it  out  of  his  hand  and 
flung  it  over  the  precipice. 

"Where  is  Elizabeth?  Go  tell  Elizabeth  I  wish  to 
speak  with  her,  if  you  want  to  make  up  with  me." 

"  We  have  not  seen  Mrs.  Mellon  since  you  went  away ; 
nor  Mr.  North  either.  They  have  finished  that  ride  by 
strolling  off  together,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington. 

Elsie  started,  and  the  warm  color  faded  from  her  face. 

•*'  What !  Elizabeth ;  has  she  been  roaming  about  ?  and 
—and " 

«  With  Mr.  North,  Elsie." 

The  tone  in  which  this  was  said  conveyed  more  than  the 
words.  At  first  Elsie  looked  bewildered ;  then,  as  if  her 
gentle  spirit  had  received  the  shock  of  a  painful  idea,  she 
fell  into  troubled  thought. 

"And  you  saw  her  go  away,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  In  what  direction  ?  " 

"  We  did  not  know  how  or  when  she  went,  but  certainly 
did  see  her  and  Mr.  North  together." 

«  Wherb  ?  " 

"  Down  yonder,  going  into  that  low  tavern." 

Elsie  gazed  into  her  friend's  face,  startled  and  astonished. 

"  She  would  not  go  there.     You  must  be  mistaken,  Mrs. 


136  FACE     TO      FACE, 

Harrington.  No  person  could  be  recognised  from  this 
distance — it's  all  noiiseuse." 

"  Ask  her,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  for  here  she  comes." 

Elizabeth  came  up  from  a  hollow  in  the  woods  and  joined 
the  party.  She  seemed  completely  worn  out,  and  sat  down 
on  a  fragment  of  rock,  panting  for  breath.  She  was  very 
pale,  as  if  some  great  exertion  had  left  the  weariness  of 
reaction  upon  her.  She  had  evidently  rested  somewhere 
before  joining  them. 

"  Elizabeth,  where  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Elsie,  looking 
anxiously  at  her  sister-in-law. 

"  Down  in  the  woods." 

Elizabeth  pointed  to  the  forest  that  sloped  back  from  the 
precipice. 

Before  Elsie  could  resume  her  questions  Mrs.  Harrington 
broke  m  with  a  faint  sneer  on  her  lips. 

"  And  where  did  you  leave  Mr.  North  ?  "  she  said,  fix 
ing  a  cunning,  sidelong  glance  on  Elizabeth. 

"I  have  not  seen  Mr.  North,"  answered  Mrs.  Mellen, 
with  apparent  indifference,  though  the  hot  color  mounted 
to  her  face,  brought  there  either  by  some  inward  conscious 
ness  or  the  perceptible  sneer  leveled  at  her  in  the  form  of  a 
question. 

"Not  seen  Mr.  North,"  exclaimed  the  widow,  udear  me 
what  things  optical  delusions  are  !  " 

Elizabeth  did  not  hear  or  heed  this,  for  that  instant  Mr. 
North  came  up  to  them  very  quietly  and  sat  down  near  the 
widow. 

"Have  you  had  a  pleasant  ramble?"  he  said,  address 
ing  Elsie.  "  I  saw  you  and  Hawkins  in  the  woods  and  had 
half  a  mind  to  join  you." 

"  But  changed  your  mind,  and  went — may  I  ask  where  ?  " 
said  Elsie,  with  a  shade  of  pallor  on  her  face  ;  for  it  seemed 
as  if  the  man  had  surprised  her  with  bitter  thoughts  of  his 
deception  in  her  mind,  and  she  could  not  refrain  from 
revealing  something  of  distrust. 


FACE     TO      FACE. 

«  Oh  I  took  a  ramble  around  the  brow  of  the  precipice," 
he  answered,  carelessly,  «  and  went  into  the  taver 

glass  of  water." 

«  And  the  lady,"  said  Elsie,  looking  steadily  m  his  face. 
"What  lady  was  it  in  a  riding-dress  who  bore  you  com- 
pany  ?  Mrs.  Harrington  saw  one  from  her  perch  her 

the  ledge." 

North   cast  a  quick   glance   on  Elizabeth,  who  did   not 
speak,  but  sat  looking  from  him  to  her  sister-in-law,  a; 
stricken  by  some  sudden  terror. 

«  It  was  a  mistake.     No  lady  shared  my  rambles,     said 

North. 

"But  there  was  a  lady,"  cried  Mrs.  Harrington,  a  goc 
deal  excited.  «  I  saw  her  with  my  own  eyes.  Mr.  Hawkm 
remarked  her  too." 

North  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"She   had   on    a   riding-habit   and    an    upright   plume 

like " 

"Well,  well,"  said  North,  gently,  «  it  is  useless  going  on 
with  the  subject.     I  assure  you  that  I  went  down  the  pre 
cipice  alone  and  came  up  alone." 

Mrs.  Harrington  looked  at  Elsie  and  smiled. 

"  Of  course  he  is  in  honor  bound  to  say  that,"  she  whis- 

^Els'ie  seemed  disturbed  and  answered  quickly,  «  I,  for  one, 
believe  that  he  speaks  the  truth.    It  is  folly  to  say  that  you 
saw  any  one  in  that  dress ;  besides,  it  was  just  as  likely  t 
be  me  as  Elizabeth— our  habits  are  alike." 

"Poor  generous  dove!"  whispered  the  widow,  "you 
know  better;  but  if  you  are  satisfied  it's  no  business  of 
mine,  only  if  Mellen  asks  me  about  it  I  must  tell 

truth."  ,.  . 

"Mary  Harrington,  you  must  have  better  proof  than  this 
before  you  dare  to  make  mischief  between  my  brother  and 
his  wife,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  force  of  expression  that  made 


138  FACE      TO      FACE. 

the  widow  open  her  eyes  wide.  "  Don't  be  slanderous  and 
wicked,  for  I  won't  bear  that,  especially  against  Eliza 
beth." 

"  Dear  me,  what  a  storm  I  have  raised.  Well,  well,  I 
did  not  see  a  lady,  that's  enough.  And  there  comes  that 
wonderful  colored  person  of  yours,  to  say  that  the  feast 
is  spread  and  the  chowder  perfect.  Come,  come,  one  and 
all." 

The  whole  party  had  assembled  on  the  ledge  by  this 
time.  At  Mrs.  Harrington's  invitation,  it  moved  off, 
and  went  laughing  and  chatting  towards  a  large  flat 
rock,  that  gleamed  out  from  among  the  surrounding 
grass  and  mosses,  like  a  crusted  snow  bank,  so  white 
and  crisp  was  the  linen  spread  over  it.  Here  a  dainty 
repast  presented  itself,  for  the  smoking  dish  of  chowder 
that  stood  in  the  centre  gave  its  name  to  what  was,  in 
fact,  a  sumptuous  feast.  Directly  the  noise  of  flying 
corks  and  the  gurgle  of  amber-hued  wines,  with  bursts 
of  laughter  and  flashes  of  wit,  frightened  the  birds  from 
their  haunt  in  the  great  maple-tree  overhead,  and  made 
its  rich  yellow  leaves  tremble  again  in  the  sunshine  that 
came  quivering  over  the  forest,  and  rippled  up  the  broad 
ocean  with  silvery  outbursts. 

Whatever  had  gone  before,  all  was  hilarity  and  cordial 
good-humor  now.  North,  for  one,  came  out  resplendently  ; 
such  graceful  compliments,  such  bright  flashes  of  wit  no 
one  had  ever  heard  from  his  lips  till  then.  It  aroused 
the  best  talent  of  every  one  present.  When  the  party 
broke  up  and  its  members  went  to  the  covert  where  their 
horses  had  been  fed,  it  was  joyously,  like  birds  flying 
home  to  their  nests. 

A  ride  through  the  golden  coolness  of  a  lovely  sunset 
brought  the  party  back  to  Piney  Cove,  and  all  that  had 
gone  wrong  during  the  day  seemed  forgotten. 

The  visitors  were  to  start  for  New  York  early  in  the 


FACE      TO      FACE.  139 

morning,  and.  as  all  were  somewhat  fatigued,  the  house 
was  closed  somewhat  earlier  than  usual. 

Elsie  had  retired  earlier  than  the  rest,  having  some 
preparations  to  make  for  her  little  journey.  She  busied 
herself  awhile  about  her  boudoir  and  bedroom,  selecting 
a  few  articles  of  jewelry  and  so  on  to  be  packed,  then 
sat  down  and  read  awhile ;  tired  of  that,  she  turned 
down  the  lights  in  the  alabaster  lily  cups,  which  one  of 
the  statues  held,  sat  down  in  the  faint  moonshine,  with 
which  she  had  thus  flooded  the  room,  and  fell  into  a  train 
of  restless  thought ;  a  pale  gleam  darted  up  now  and  then 
from  the  lilies,  and  trembled  through  the  floss-like  curls 
under  which  she  had  thrust  her  hand,  revealing  a  face 
more  earnest  and  thoughtful  than  was  usual  to  the  gay 
young  creature.  Whether  *it  was  that  she  had  become 
anxious  from  the  dart  of  suspicion  that  had  been  that 
day  cast  at  her  brother's  wife,  or  was  disturbed  by  some 
other  cause  I  cannot  say,  but  her  eyes  shone  bright  and 
clear  in  the  pale  radiance  that  surrounded  her ;  now  and 
then  she  would  start  up  and  listen  at  Elizabeth's  door, 
as  if  about  to  enter  and  question  her  of  the  things  that 
evidently  troubled  her  mind.  At  last  she  fell  into  quiet, 
and  lying  on  the  couch,  scarcely  seemed  to  breathe.  It 
was  almost  midnight  then.  The  house  was  still,  and  she 
could  hear  the  distant  waves  beating  against  the  shore. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  listened  dreamily,  reluctant  to 
seek  any  other  place  of  rest,  yet  changing  the  azure 
cushions  of  her  couch  impatiently  from  time  to  time. 

At  last,  as  she  half  rose  for  this  purpose,  a  noise  from 
the  outer  room,  which  was  a  square  passage  or  hall,  in 
which  were  placed  some  bronze  statues  and  antique  shields, 
arrested  her  attention.  Besting  on  her  elbow,  she  held  her 
breath  and  listened. 

The  noise  came  again  more  distinctly.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
door  had  been  opened  with  caution.  Elsie  arose,  stole 


140  LETTERS. 

softly  across  the  carpet,  turned  the  lock  of  her  dressing- 
room  door  and  entered  the  passage,  carrying  a  little  night- 
lainp  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  kindled  among  the  ala 
baster  lilies.  She  had  half  crossed  the  hall,  casting  fright 
ened  looks  around,  when  a  cry  of  dismay  broke  from  her 
lips,  for  close  by  the  door  which  led  to  her  sister-in-law's 
apartments  she  saw  Elizabeth  standing,  pale  as  death,  but 
with  her  eyes  burning  like  fire,  turned  upon  a  man  who 
stood  leaning  against  one  of  the  statues.  It  was  Mr. 
North. 

The  two  women  stood  face  to  face,  regarding  each  other 
in  dead  silence,  while  North  smiled  upon  them  both.  The 
lamp  trembled  in  Elsie's  hand,  her  face  became  white  as 
snow.  Without  uttering  a  word  she  turned,  entered  her 
room  and  locked  the  door. 

The  next  day  she  left  Piney  Point  with  Mrs.  Harrington. 
Mr.  North  left  also,  but  he  went  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LETTERS. 

MONTHS  had  passed  since  Grantley  Mellen's  departure 
for  California  ;  the  winter  had  gone,  the  summer  faded,  and 
though  his  absence  had  been  prolonged  almost  two  years, 
there  was  little  hope  of  his  speedy  return. 

The  business  upon  which  he  had  gone  out  was  not  yet 
settled,  and  however  great  his  anxiety  to  meet  his  family, 
he  would  not  endanger  his  worldly  interests  so  vitally  as  he 
would  have  done  by  any  neglect  or  reckless  inattention  in 
that  affair. 

Since  the  night  of  that  unpleasant  scene  in  the  hall  at 
Piuey  Cove,  Elsie  Mellen  had  been  at  home  so  irregularly 


LETTERS.  141 

that  all  intimate  relations  had  died  out  between  her  and 
her  sister-in-law.  Some  dark  thought  seemed  to  possess  the 
young  girl,  since  the  night  of  that  strange  adventure  ;  and, 
though  the  subject  was  never  mentioned  between  her  and 
Elizabeth,  Elsie's  demeanor  towards  her  brother's  wife  was 
one  of  cold,  almost  hateful  distrust,  while  Elizabeth  grew 
more  pensively  sad  each  day,  and  seemed  to  shrink  from, 
any  explanation  with  painful  sensitiveness. 

At  last  Elsie  almost  entirely  absented  herself  from  the 
house.  The  very  premises  seemed  to  have  become  hateful 
to  her.  Without  deigning  to  consult  Elizabeth,  she  had 
been  visiting  about  among  her  former  schoolmates,  making 
Mrs.  Harrington's  house  her  headquarters.  This  was  all 
the  announcement  of  her  movements  that  she  chose  to  make 
to  the  woman  who  had  been  left  her  guardian. 

How  this  fair,  thoughtless  girl  lost  all  respect  for  her 
brother's  wife  so  completely  that  she  refused  to  remain  ac 
countable  to  her  for  anything,  no  one  could  tell,  for  she 
never  mentioned  the  affair  of  that  night  to  her  nearest 
friend.  It  evidently  worked  in  her  heart,  but  never  found 
utterance. 

So  the  winter  wore  away  drearily  enough  at  Piney  Cove  ; 
for  with  all  her  waywardness,  Elsie  had  been  like  a  sun 
beam  in  the  house ;  and  Elizabeth  pined  in  her  absence  till 
the  dark  circles  widened  under  her  eyes,  and  her  voice 
always  had  a  sound  of  pain  in  it.  But  with  the  most  sor 
rowful,  time  moves  on,  and  even  grief  cannot  retain  one 
phase  of  mournfulness  for  ever. 

The  second  spring  began  to  scatter  a  little  brightness 
about  the  old  house,  and  in  this  fresh  outbloom  of  nature 
Elizabeth  found  some  sources  of  enjoyment.  Since  her 
virtual  separation  from  Elsie  she  had  received  no  company, 
but  lived  in  utter  seclusion.  Letters  from  her  husband 
came  regularly,  but  her  replies  were  studied,  and  written 
with  restraint.  She  never  folded  one  of  these  missives 


142  LETTERS. 

without  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  when  his  letters  spoke  of 
coming  home,  she  would  ponder  over  the  writing  with  a 
look  of  strange  dread  in  her  face. 

One  lovely  spring  morning  Elizabeth  Mellen  was  alone  in 
that  quiet  old  mansion.  Elsie  had  not  been  home  for 
months,  and  only  brief  notes  announcing  some  change  of 
place,  or  anticipated  movements,  had  warned  Elizabeth  of 
her  mode  of  existence.  These  notes  were  cold  as  ice,  and 
the  young  wife  always  shivered  with  dread  when  she  opened 
them. 

It  might  have  been  a  package  of  these  letters  that  sho 
had  been  reviewing.  She  was  alone  in  the  library ;  quite 
alone,  of  course,  but  the  repose  and  silence  about  her  brought 
no  rest  to  her  soul.  Her  whole  appearance  was  in  strange 
contrast  to  the  quiet  of  the  scene  ;  her  face  so  changed  by 
the  thoughts  which  kept  her  company,  and  forced  them 
selves  upon  her  solitude,  that  it  hardly  seemed  the  same. 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in  nervous  haste, 
her  head  bent,  her  eyes  looking  straight  before  her,  full 
of  wild  bewilderment  which  follows  an  effort  at  reflection 
when  the  mind  is  in  a  fever  of  unrest.  Sometimes  she 
stopped  before  the  table,  on  which  lay  a  package  of  open 
letters ;  she  would  glance  at  them  with  a  shudder  of 
horror,  wringing  her  hands  passionately  together  at  the 
time,  and  uttering  low  moans  which  sounded  scarcely 
human  in  their  smothered  intensity. 

Then  she  would  glance  towards  the  mantel,  upon  which 
lay  a  letter  with  the  seal  still  unbroken,  though  it  had 
reached  her  early  that  morning.  It  was  from  her  hus 
band,  and  she  had  not  yet  dared  to  read  its  contents ! 

She  had  been  thus  for  hours,  walking  to  and  fro,  some 
times  sweeping  the  package  on  the  table  away,  as  if  unable 
longer  to  endure  it  before  her  eyes,  only  an  instant  after 
to  recover  it  as  if  there  were  danger  in  allowing  it  out 
of  her  sight.  Then  she  would  take  up  her  husband's 


LETTERS.  143 

letter  and  attempt  to  open  it,  but  each  time  her  courage 
failed,  and  she  would  lay  it  down,  while  that  sickening 
trouble  at  her  heart  sent  a  new  pallor  across  her  face,  and 
left  her  trembling  and  weak,  like  a  person  just  risen  from 
a  sick  bed. 

It  was  growing  late  in  the  afternoon ;  the  sunlight 
played  in  at  the  windows,  and  cast  a  pleasant  glow 
through  the  room ;  but  the  glad  beams  only  made  her 
shiver,  as  if  they  had  been  human  witnesses  that  might 
betray  her  fear  and  misery. 

At  last  she  took  up  the  package,  resolved  to  put  it  reso 
lutely  away  where  she  could  no  longer  look  at  it ;  as  she 
raised  it  a  miniature  fell  from  among  the  papers,  and 
struck  the  floor  with  a  ringing  sound.  She  snatched  it 
up  quickly,  crushed  the  whole  into  a  drawer,  locked  it 
and  put  the  key  in  her  bosom. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  struggle  she  started  forward  to 
the  mantel,  caught  up  her  husband's  letter,  and  began  to 
read.  A  sharp  cry  broke  from  her  lips ;  she  dropped 
slowly  to  her  knees,  and  went  on  reading  in  that  atti 
tude,  as  if  it  were  the  only  one  in  which  she  could 
venture  to  glance  at  those  kindly  words  : 

"Not  coming  quite  yet,"  she  gasped  at  length  ;  "  thank 
God,  not  yet — not  yet/'' 

She  allowed  the  letter  to  drop  from  her  hand,  and  for  a 
few  moments  gave  herself  completely  up  to  the  horrible 
agitation  which  consumed  her. 

It  would  have  been  a  piteous  sight  to  the  coldest  or 
most  injured  heart  to  have  seen  that  beautiful  woman 
crouched  on  the  floor,  in  the  extremity  of  her  anguish, 
writhing  to  and  fro,  and  moaning  in  mortal  agony,  which 
could  find  no  relief  in  tears. 

She  remained  thus  for  a  long  time  ;  at  last  some  sudden 
thought  appeared  to  strike  her,  which  brought  with  it  an 
absolute  necessity  for  self-control  and  immediate  action. 


144  LETTERS. 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  muttering : 

"  He  will  be  here  again  soon  ;  he  must  not  find  me  like 
this!" 

She  walked  to  the  mirror,  arranged  her  disordered  dress 
and  hair,  and  stood  gazing  at  her  own  features  in  a  sort  of 
wondering  pity  ;  they  were  so  deathlike  and  contracted  with 
suffering  that  she  felt  almost  as  if  looking  into  £he  face  of 
a  stranger. 

At  length  she  caught  up  a  cloak  which  lay  on  the  sofa, 
wrapped  herself  in  it  and  went  out  of  the  house. 

She  took  her  way  through  the  woods,  walking  rapidly, 
quite  regardless  that  the  moisture  from  the  damp  earth  was 
penetrating  her  thin  shoes,  not  feeling  the  keenness  of  the 
wind,  which  was  growing  chill  with  the  approach  of  eve 
ning. 

The  expression  of  her  face  changed ;  she  was  deadly 
pale  still,  but  a  look  of  resolution  had  settled  over  her 
features,  and  a  naturally  strong  will  had  begun  to  assert 
itself. 

Beyond  the  shrubbery  that  thick  grove  of  evergreens 
extended  to  the  very  shore,  and  into  their  shadow  Eliza 
beth  walked  with  a  determined  step. 

Evidently  waiting  for  some  one  she  paced  up  and  down 
among  the  trees,  the  dry  leaves  rustling  under  her  tread 
and  making  her  start,  as  if  she  feared  being  surprised  in 
that  solitary  spot  by  some  curious  wanderer. 

It  was  growing  almost  twilight,  but  still  she  kept  up  that 
dreary  promenade,  struggling  bravely  with  herself,  and  try 
ing  to  restrain  the  agonizing  thoughts  which  threatened  to 
overwhelm  her  forced  composure. 

"  He  will  not  come,"  she  muttered  j  "  I  must  wait  — « 
wait — he  will  not  come  to-day." 

She  shuddered  at  the  very  sound  of  her  own  voice,  but 
it  seemed  to  have  disturbed  some  one  else;  for  a  step 
sounded  on  the  grass,  and  a  man  came  out  from  the  deeper 


AN      INTERVIEW      IN      THE      WOODS.         145 

recesses  of  the  grove,  and  paused  for  a  moment,  glancing 
on  either  side  as  if  uncertain  which  path  to  pursue. 
It  was  Mr.  North, 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AN    INTERVIEW    IN   THE   WOODS, 

ELIZABETH  saw  the  man  and  yet  neither  moved  or  spoke, 
but  remained  standing  there  in  dumb  silence,  gazing  at  him 
with  an  expression  in  which  so  many  diverse  emotions 
struggled,  that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  decide  which 
feeling  was  paramount. 

The  flutter  of  her  cloak  caught  his  attention,  and  he  came 
hurriedly  forward  with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  holding  out  his 
hand  in  an  easy,  reckless  fashion. 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  fear  that  I 
have  kept  you  waiting — I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

She  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  check  him,  feeling,  perhaps, 
some  mockery  in  these  words  which  was  not  apparent  in 
his  voice. 

"  We  need  not  make  excuses  to  each  other,"  she  said,  in 
a  cold,  hard  tone,  "  neither  you  nor  1  came  here  for  that." 

"  Scarcely.  I  believe,"  and  he  laughed  in  a  reckless  way, 
which  appeared  natural  to  him. 

Elizabeth  Mellen  shuddered  in  every^  limb  at  that  repul 
sive  sound  ;  an  absolute  spasm  of  pain  contracted  her  fea 
tures,  she  gave  no  other  sign  of  emotion,  but  clenched  her 
hands  hard  together,  forcing  herself  to  be  calm. 

"  I  only  received  your  letter  this  morning,"  he  continued, 
watching  her   every    movement   carefully,  while   standing 
there  with  his  back  against  a  tree  with  apparent  unconcern  ; 
"I  should  have  been  earlier,  had  it  been  possible." 
9 


146        AN      INTERVIEW      IN      THE      WOODS. 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  No  more  of  that,'7  she  exclaimed,  "  enough  !  " 

He  looked  at  he'r  with  the  same  careless  smile  that  lighted 
up  his  somewhat  worn  face  into  an  expression  of  absolute 
youthfulness.  He  was  still  a  splendidly  handsome  man  ;  a 
type  of  rare  beauty  which  could  not  have  failed  to  attract 
general  observation  wherever  he  appeared. 

He  was  tall ;  the  shoulders  and  limbs  might  have  served 
as  a  model  for  a  sculptor ;  the  neck  was  white  almost  as  a 
woman's ;  the  magnificent  head  set  with  perfect  grace  upon 
itf  and  was  carried  with  a  haughty  air  that  was  absolutely 
noble.  He  might  have  been  thirty-eight,  perhaps  even 
older  than  that,  but  he  was  one  of  those  men  concerning 
whose  age  even  a  physiognomist  would  be  puzzled  to  decide. 

The  face  was  almost  faultless  in  its  contour ;  the  mouth, 
shaded  by  a  long  silken  moustache,  which  relieved  his  pale 
ness  admirably,  and  lent  new  splendor  to  his  eyes,  which 
possessed  a  strange  magnetic  power  that  had  worked  ill  in 
more  than  one  unfortunate  destiny. 

It  was  a  face  trained  to  concealment,  and  yet  so  carefully 
tutored  that  at  the  first  glance  one  only  thought  what  an 
open,  pleasant  expression  it  had.  Even  after  long  inter 
course  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  man's  character, 
that  face  would  have  puzzled  the  most  skillful  observer. 

Elizabeth  Mellon  was  looking  at  him  in  a  strange  silence  ; 
whatever  might  have  been  in  the  past  there  was  no  spell 
now  in  those  glorious  eyes  which  could  dazzle  her  soul  into 
forgetfulness  ;  shade  after  shade  of  repressed  emotion  passed 
over  her  features  as  she  gazed,  leaving  them  at  last  white 
and  fixed  as  marble. 

"You  are  pale,"  he  said,  "  so  changed." 

She  started  as  if  he  had  struck  her. 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  talk  of  my  appearance,"  she 
said. 

"True,"   he   replied,    "very   true;   but   I   cannot    help 


AN      INTERVIEW      IN      THE      WOODS.        147 

wondering.     I    think   of    that    day    when    I   saved    your 
life » 

"  If  you  had  only  let  me  die  then  !  "  she  broke  in  passion 
ately.  "  If  God  had  only  mercifully  deprived  you  of  all 
strength  ! " 

"  You  were  blooming  and  gay,"  he  went  on  as  if  he  had 
not  heard  her  words.  "  Yes,  you  are  changed  since  then." 

"  I  will  not  hear  these  things/'  she  cried ;  "  1  will  not  be 
made  to  look  back  upon  what  we  all  were  then." 

She  closed  her  eyes  in  blind  anguish ;  his  words  brought 
back  with  such  terrible  force  the  time  of  that  meeting — the 
day  but  one  before  her  marriage,  when  he  had  started  up  so 
fatally  in  her  path,  and  never  left  it  till  this  terrible 
moment. 

"  Then  to  change  the  subject,"  he  said.  "  In  our  brief 
conversation  the  other  day  we  arrived  at  no  conclusion 
whatever,  nor  was  your  letter  any  more  satisfactory;  will 
you  tell  me  exactly  what  you  have  decided  upon  ?  " 

A  sudden  flash  of  anger  leaped  into  her  eyes  above  all 
the  suffering  that  dilated  them. 

"Now  you  are  talking  naturally,"  she  said,  "now  you 
are  your  real  self!  " 

He  bowed  in  graceful,  almost  insulting  mockery. 

"  It  is  your  turn  to  pay  compliments,"  he  answered ; 
"  but  I  shall  not  receive  them  so  ungraciously  as  you  did 
mine." 

She  passed  her  hand  across  her  throat  as  if  something 
were  choking  her,  then  she  said  in  a  hard,  measured  tone  : 

"  Have  you  considered  the  proposition  1  made  you — will 
you  go  away  from  this  country,  and  remain  away  for 
ever?" 

He  stood  playing  with  his  watchchain  in  an  easy,  care 
less  way,  as  he  replied  : 

"  It  is  cruel  to  banish  me — very  cruel !  " 

"Listen!"  she  exclaimed  passionately;  "I  know  more 
than  you  think — your  residence  hero  is  not  safe !" 


148        AN      INTERVIEW      IN      THE      WOODS. 

He  only  bowed  again. 

"  It  may  be  so,  but  I  leave  few  traces  in  my  path.  If 
you  do  indeed  know  anything  which  could  affect  me,  I  am 
very  certain  that  in  you  I  have  a  friend  who  will  be  silent." 

He  opened  his  vest  slightly  and  drew  forth  from  an  inner 
pocket  a  small  paper,  at  the  sight  of  which  Elizabeth  grew 
whiter  than  before.  She  made  a  gesture  as  if  she  would 
have  snatched  it  from  him,  but  he  thrust  it  back  in  its  hid 
ing-place  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"  Secret  for  secret,"  said  he ;  "  but  never  mind  that. 
After  all,  you  treat  me  very  badly.  I  wonder  I  am  in  the 
least  inclined  to  be  friends  with  you." 

"  Don't  mock  me ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Friends  !  There 
is  no  creature  living  that  I  loathe  as  I  do  you  !  No  matter 
what  the  danger  may  be,  I  will  speak  the  truth  ;  tell  you 
how  utterly  abhorrent  you  are  to  me,  and  brave  the  result." 

"  Yet  once " 

She  interrupted  him  with  an  insane  gesture  ;  perhaps  he 
knew  her  too  well  for  any  attempt  at  trifling  further  with 
her  just  then,  for  his  manner  changed,  and  he  said  : 

"  You  will  take  cold  here  ;  it  is  growing  dark  and  the 
wind  is  very  chill." 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  replied,  recklessly.  "  Let  us 
finish  what  there  is  to  say,  then  I  will  go." 

The  wretched  woman  could  stand  upon  her  feet  no  longer, 
she  was  shaking  so  with  agitation  and  exhaustion  that  she 
was  forced  to  sit  down  on  a  fallen  log.  He  seated  himself 
by  her  side,  regardless  of  her  recoiling  gesture,  and  began 
to  talk  earnestly. 

For  a  full  hour  that  strange  interview  went  on,  their 
voices  rising  at  times  in  sudden  passion,  then  sinking  to  a 
low  tone,  as  if  the  speakers  remembered  that  they  spoke 
words  which  must  not  be  overheard. 

At  last  Elizabeth  arose  from  her  seat,  folded  her  cloak 
t  about  her,  and  said,  quickly  : 


AN      INTERVIEW      IN      THE      WOODS.         149 

"Be  here  to-morrow  at  the  same  hour." 

Without  giving  him  time  to  answer,  or  making  the  least 
sign  of  farewell,  she  darted  rapidly  through  the  darkening 
woods  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

North  rose,  began  whistling  a  careless  air,  and  walked 
slowly  back  along  the  path  by  which  he  had  entered  the 
grove. 

When  Elizabeth  came  in  sight  of  the  house  she  saw  a 
light  in  the  library  window. 

"Elsie  is  back  at  last.     God  help  us  all !  "  she  muttered. 

She  moved  near  the  low  casement,  looked  in  and  saw 
the  girl  standing  on  the  hearth,  and  hurried  towards  the 
entrance. 

Elsie  had  returned  home  a  full  hour  before,  and  had 
searched  for  Elizabeth  vainly  about  the  house.  She  enter 
ed  the  library,  and  was  walking  restlessly  about  the 
spacious  room,  slowly  and  sadly,  as  if  oppressed  by  this 
cold  welcome  home. 

Suddenly  her  e}^e  caught  sight  of  a  paper  lying  under 
the  table ;  it  was  one  of  the  letters  which  had  fallen  unno 
ticed  by  Elizabeth  when  she  put  away  the  package. 

Elsie  caught  it  up,  glanced  her  eyes  over  it,  uttered  a 
faint  cry,  then  read  it  in  a  sort  of  horrified  stupor. 

"  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  !  "  broke  from  her  lips. 

The  discovery  which  she  had  made  froze  the  very  blood 
in  her  veins,  and  left  her  incapable  of  thought  or  action. 
She  sat  shivering,  as  if  struck  with  a  mortal  chill,  and  at 
last  crept  close  to  the  fire,  clutching  the  letter  in  her  hands, 
but  holding  them  out  for  warmth.  Sometimes  her  sister's 
name  broke  from  her  lips  in  a  horrified  whisper,  and  low 
words  died  in  her  throat,  the  very  sound  of  which  made  her 
shudder. 

At  length  the  darkness  and  the  solitude  seemed  to 
become  insupportable  to  her;  she  started  forward  and 
opened  the  door,  with  the  intention  of  fleeing  from  tbe 


150  FIRE     AND     WATER. 

room.  It  had  suddenly  become  odious  to  her.  She  took 
one  step  into  the  hall  and  met  Elizabeth  face  to  face.  The 
woman  saw  the  letter  which  Elsie  held  in  her  hand,  caught 
the  recoiling  gesture  which  she  instinctively  made,  then  for 
an  instant  they  both  stood  still,  staring  at  each  other. 

Suddenly  Elizabeth  caught  Elsie's  hand,  drew  her  back 
into  the  library,  and,  once  there,  closed  and  locked  the 
door. 

For  more  than  an  hour  the  pair  were  alone  in  that  dark 
ened  apartment.  When  at  last  they  emerged  from  it  they 
were  both  deadly  white,  and  exhausted  as  if  by  passionate 
weeping.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  between  them,  but  they 
turned  away  from  each  other  like  ghosts  that  had  no  resting- 
place  on  earth. 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

FIRE      AND      WATER. 

WHEN  North  left  Mrs.  Mellen  in  the  woods  he  took  a 
moment  for  consideration,  and  then  walked  quickly  towards 
the  shore  tavern.  As  he  turned  a  point  which  led  from 
Piney  Point  to  the  bluff  which  overhung  it,  his  servant,  the 
young  mulatto,  who  had  spent  most  of  the  season  at  this 
retreat,  came  to  meet  him  with  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  It  had  a  foreign  postmark,"  said  the  man  ;  "  so  I  start 
ed  to  meet  you  the  moment  it  came  in,  according  to 
orders." 

"  Right,  boy,  you  are  very  right,"  cried  North,  tearing  at 
the  envelope  as  a  hawk  rends  its  prey  ;  "  never  let  a  scrap 
of  writing  from  abroad  rest  a  moment  out  of  my  hands." 

The  man  read  the  letter — only  a  few  lines — and  his 
hands  shook  till  the  paper  rattled  again. 


f 

FIRE     AND      WATER.  151 

"Boy — boy,  what  day  of  the  month  is  this?7'  he  ques 
tioned,  trying  to  fold  the  letter,  which  he  crushed  iustead. 

"The  tenth,  sir." 

North  went  into  a  mental  calculation,  then  the  cloud  on 
his  face  broke  away  and  he  almost  shouted  : 

"  It  is  in  time — it  is  in  time  !     Any  other  letters  ?  " 

"  One  for  the  Cove.  Shall  I  slip  it  into  the  old  man's 
parcel  or  would  you  rather " 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  North,  cutting  the  servant  short, 
and  snatching  at  the  letter,  which  was  in  Mr.  Melleii's 
handwriting  and  bore  the  California  postmark. 

He  was  too  eager  for  caution,  and  broke  the  seal  reck 
lessly. 

"  He,  too — he  coming,  too  !  By  Jove,  this  is  glorious 
sport !  Made  his  will  before  sailing,  ha  ! — provident  man  ! 
• — one  half  to  his  dear  wife,  the  other  to  his  darling  sister, 
Elsie  Mellen.  A  safe  precaution,  for  ships  will  get  lost  at 
sea." 

North  crushed  the  two  letters  into  his  pocket,  and 
walked  with  rapid  steps  towards  the  tavern.  But  he  only 
remained  long  enough  to  get  a  telescope,  with  which  he 
reappeared,  and  turned  into  a  path  leading  to  the  bluff. 
Once  upon  the  ledge,  high  above  the  house,  he  levelled  his 
glass  and  took  a  hasty  sweep  of  the  ocean  with  it.  Noth 
ing  was  in  sight  that  seemed  to  interest  him,  so  he  turned 
the  glass  a  little  landward  and  levelled  it  on  the  Piney 
Cove  mansion,  which  made  an  imposing  feature  in  the  land 
scape.  From  the  eminence  on  which  the  mansion  stood  the 
grounds  sloped  down  to  the  water's  edge  in  a  closely- 
shaven  lawn,  pleasantly  broken  up  by  flower-beds,  arid 
knots  of  old  trees  that  looked  aged  and  mysterious  enough 
to  have  watched  that  distant  sweep  of  sea  for  whole  cen 
turies. 

North  seemed  to  be  counting  every  clump  of  trees,  and 
calculating  the  value  of  each  broad  field  that  stretched 
back  from  the  crescent-like  Cove. 


FIRE      AND      WATER. 

"  It  is  a  glorious  old  place,  and  we  might  live  there  like 
monarch*.  If  I  could  only  command  the  winds  and  waves 
for  one  week,  now,  we  might  defy  the  rest.  Half  his  prop 
erty  !  Why,  it  is  splendid  ;  and  the  will  safe." 

With  these  words  he  turned  his  glass  again.  On  a  clear 
morning  there  was  a  glorious  view  from  the  bluff,  showing 
the  full  extent  of  the  curving  bay,  with  its  long  line  of 
steep  woodlands  stretching  along  the  coast  and  the  bright 
rush  of  waters  beyond,  till  the  eye  was  lost  in  the  white 
line  of  the  distant  ocean. 

Other  mansions  peeped  out  from  among  the  trees,  or 
stood  boldly  down  on  the  shore,  and  on  the  right  hand 
a  small  village  nestled  in  at  the  furthermost  extremity 
of  the  bay,  forming  a  pleasant  life  picture.  The  man 
cared  nothing  for  these  things,  but  turned  his  glass 
directly  oceanward,  and  searched  the  horizon  with  keen 
interest. 

A  ship  hove  in  sight,  like  a  great  white  bird,  beating 
up  from  its  nest  in  mid-ocean.  The  heart  in  that  bad 
man's  bosom  made  a  great  bound,  and  the  blasphemy  of 
a  thanksgiving  sprang  to  his  lips  ;  but  the  joy  was  only 
for  a  moment.  Dropping  his  glass,  he  muttered  : 

"Madman  !  to  suppose,  of  all  the  ships  on  the  ocean,  it 
must  be  this  one.  But  if  it  should— if  it  should  I" 

He  sat  down  on  a  fragment  of  rock,  rested  his  glass  on 
the  drooping  branch  of  a  tree,  and  watched  the  ship  as  it 
swept  through  a  bank  of  luminous  fog  and  took  a  more 
definite  form.  Hitherto  it  had  seemed  floating  between 
a  curve  of  the  sky  and  the  blue  line  of  water,  but  now 
it  came  out  clearly,  and  as  North  looked  he  saw  a  dark 
pile  of  storm-clouds  muster  up  behind  it  with  slow 
threatening  danger. 

Hour  ^after  hour  the  man  sat  and  watched  that  one 
object.  The  glass  was  a  powerful  one,  and  seconded  his 
keen-  vigilance.  At  length  he  was  rewarded,  a  burst  of 


FIRE      AND      WATER.  153 

sunshine  fell  upon  the  vessel,  the  last  that  illuminated 
the  horizon  that  day,  and  he  saw  her  name  on  the  stern. 
The  telescope  dropped  from  his  hand,  his  face  turned  pale; 
the  cry  that  leaped  to  his  lips  perished  there.  The  man 
was  frightened  by  the  completion  of  his  own  wishes. 
Had  some  evil  spirit  performed  a  miracle  for  him  ? 

All  the  time  this  man  had  been  watching,  a  tempest 
blackly  followed  the  homeward-bound  ship.  The  ocean 
began  to  dash  and  torment  itself  into  a  fury  of  wrath. 
A  high  wind  came  roaring  up  from  the  bosom  of  the 
waters,  and  over  all  gathered  a  world  of  lurid  gloom, 
kindled  fiercely  red  by  the  sun  when  it  went  down,  and 
slowly  engulfed  the  ship,  which  was  last  seen  struggling 
fearfully  in  the  wild  upheaving  of  the  elements. 

North  seemed  possessed  of  a  demon  that  night.  He 
left  his  telescope  on  the  earth,  and  went  desperately  to 
work,  gathering  up  dry  wood  and  brush,  which  he 
stacked  on  the  overhanging  ledge,  never  pausing  till  a 
great  mound  was  created  sufficiently  large  to  keep  a  fire 
blazing  all  night.  By  the  time  this  was  done  the  dark 
ness  became  profound.  Now  and  then  he  could  see  drifts 
of  foam  tossed  upwards,  like  the  fluttering  garments  of 
a  ghost  fleeing  from  the  storm.  The  little  tavern  at  the 
foot  of  the  rock  was  lost  in  the  overwhelming  darkness. 
The  lights  from  the  village  seemed  put  out,  and  there 
was  no  vestige  of  Piney  Cove  visible.  No  rain,  as  yet 
had  fallen  ;  and  at  this  North  rejoiced,  for  his  stock  of 
wood  was  like  tinder  in  its  dryness,  and  the  wind  came 
fiercely  from  the  ocean,  so  fiercely  that  it  threatened  the 
death  of  any  vessel  approaching  the  shore. 

With  all  these  elements  of  terror  surrounding  him, 
North  worked  till  the  perspiration  dropped  from  his  fore 
head  like  rain.  That  cliff  had  been  blackened  before  with 
wreckers'  fires,  but  never  had  a  man  heaped  wood  upon  wood 
with  so  vivid  a  conviction  of  the  crime  he  meditated,  with 
such  earliest  desire  for  death  to  follow  his  toil. 


154  FIRE      AND      WATER. 

When  the  evening  had  reached  its  darkest  gloom,  this 
man  struck  a  match,  which  he  took  from  his  pocket  in  a 
little  case  of  enamelled  gold — for  even  in  his  crimes  he  was 
dainty — and  thrust  it  among  the  yellow  pine  splinters  with 
which  he  had  laid  the  foundation  of  his  deathh're.  The 
blue  light  of  the  match  flashed  close  to  his  face,  revealing 
it  white  as  death,  but  smiling. 

Directly  a  column  of  flame  shot  upward,  first  in  fine 
quivering  flashes,  then  in  long,  curling  wreaths  of  fire,  that 
the  wind  seized  upon  and  tore  into  hot,  red  tatters,  laughing 
and  wrangling  among  them  with  fearful  grotesqueness. 

North  retreated  from  the  blaze,  and  ran  back  into  the 
woods,  hiding  himself,  for  he  feared  to  be  seen  from  the 
tavern  below.  Now  and  then  he  would  start  forth,  toss  a 
handful  of  fuel  on  the  flames,  and  plunge  back  into  the 
darkness,  where  he  listened  greedily  for  some  token  to  come 
out  of  the  storm  and  prove  that  his  evil  work  was  well 
done. 

It  came  at  last — a  gun  boomed  out  from  the  tempest. 
The  man  started  and  began  to  tremble.  Still  he  listened. 
Another  gun,  with  loud  cries  cutting  sharply  through  the 
storm,  then  dead  silence,  followed  by  a  tumult  upon  the 
shore,  as  if  men  were  gathering  in  haste. 

North  was  not  surprised  at  this.  When  a  vessel  struck 
in  these  days  on  the  Long  Island  shore,  wreckers  appeared 
in  dozens,  not  eager  for  death,  for  they  would  rather  have 
avoided  that,  but  keen  for  plunder.  Now  the  cries  of  these 
men  made  the  storm  terrible.  Blue  lights  from  the  stricken 
ship  revealed  her  struggling  fiercely  among  the  breakers, 
which  were  rending  her  like  wild  beasts. 

Then  North  trampled  out  his  death  fire  and  went  down 
to  the  beach  among  the  crowd  of  wreckers  that  stood 
waiting,  with  horrid  patience,  for  the  ship  to  go  to  pieces 
and  give  its  treasures  into  their  greedy  keeping. 

<k  No  boat  could  live  among  the  breakers  three  minutes, 


FIRE      AND      WATER. 


155 


I  tell  you,"  said  old  Benson  with  gruff  decision,  when 
North,  horrified  by  the  terrible  shrieks  that  rang  up  from 
the  sinking  ship,  was  seized  with  an  awful  fit  of  remorse, 
and  cried  out  fiercely  for  help  which  no  man  could  give. 
He  would  have  undone  his  work  then  had  it  been  possible, 
for  the  last  faint  light  that  went  up  from  the  wreck  revealed 
a  woman,  with  outstretched  arms  and  hair  streaming  back 
on  the  storm,  pleading  so  wildly  for  help  that  a  fiend  wouk 
have  pitied  her.  It  was  this  woman's  life  he  had  sought, 
but  with  the  sight  of  her  his  heart  failed  utterly. 

But  an  evil  deed  once  written  in  the  eternal  book  of  God 
cannot  be  recalled.  While  this  man  stood  in  dumb  help 
lessness  on  the  beach,  the  ship  sunk.  Out  of  the  whirl 
pool  which  it  made,  the  wretched  woman  was  tossed  back 
among  the  breakers,  that  seized  upon  her,  fiercely  hurled 
her  to  and  fro  against  the  rocks,  then  gave  her  over  to  a 
great  inheaving  wave,  which  left  her  shrouded  in  a  drift  of 
seaweed  almost  at  her  murderer's  feet. 

Daylight  had  broken  on  the  wreck  before  it  went  down. 
Leaden  and  cold  it  fell  over  the  corpse  of  that  poor  woman 
as  it  was  borne  up  to  the  tavern,  with  the  seaweed  trailing 
from  it  and  the  wet  garments  clinging  to  the  limbs  like 
cerements.  Two  rude  seamen  carried  her  away,  for  North 
fled  from  the  first  sight  of  his  work  and  plunged  madly 
into  the  water,  where  many  a  poor  wretch  was  buffeting 
with  the  waves.  He  called  on  the  wreckers  to  help  him, 
and  dragged  two  or  three  exhausted  creatures  to  the  beach, 
for  he  was  ready  to  brave  death  in  any  shape  rather  than 
look  upon  that  cold  form  again. 

They  carried  the  lifeless  woman  up  to  the  tavern,  and, 
careless  of  ceremony,  laid  her  on  the  bed  in  North's  room. 
Here  they  left  her,  with  the  salt  sea-water  dripping  in  a 
heavy  rain  from  her  garments,  soaking  the  bed  and  forming 
dreary  rivulets  along  the  uncarpeted  floor. 

Deep  in  the  morning  North  came  up  from  the  beach  pale 


156  AMONG     THE      BREAKERS. 

and  staggering  from  exhaustion.  He  went  into  his  cham 
ber  and  was  about  to  cast  himself  on  the  bed,  when,  lo  !  that 
face  on  the  pillow  met  his  gaze,  ghastly  and  cold.  The 
heavy  dropping  of  the  water  struck  upon  his  ear  like  the 
fall  of  leaden  bullets.  He  stood  paralyzed  yet  fascinated. 
A  shudder  colder  than  spray  from  his  garments  shook  his 
form  from  head  to  foot ;  and,  turning,  he  fled  down  the  stairs 
again  out  upon  the  beach,  and  helped  the  wreckers  to  haul 
in  their  plunder,  till  he  fell  utterly  exhausted  ou  the  sands. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

AMONG    THE     BREAKERS. 

THE  storm  had  abated,  but  still  the  sea  rose  tempestuously, 
and  broken  clouds  filled  the  sky  as  with  great  whirlpools 
and  drifts  of  smoke.  A  good  deal  of  rain  had  fallen,  and 
this  calmed  the  waters  somewhat;  but  the  disturbed  elements 
of  the  tempest  made  the  most  experienced  seaman  look 
anxious  when  his  face  was  turned  oceanwards.  An  assis 
tant  pilot,  whose  duty  lay  in  that  range  of  the  shore,  had 
been  injured  in  helping  to  save  the  crew  of  that  ill-fated 
vessel.  His  comrades  had  carried  him  up  to  the  tavern,  and 
laid  him  on  a  settee  in  the  bar-room,  where  he  grew  worse 
and  worse,  till  it  became  dangerous  to  remove  him  to  more 
comfortable  quarters. 

In  this  state  North  found  the  man  on  the  second  day 
after  the  wreck,  when  he  came  up  from  the  village,  where 
he  had  sought  accommodations  till  the  coroner's  inquest 
should  be  over,  and  his  room  cleared  of  its  mournful  incum- 
brance. 

Independent  of  his  personal  hurt,  the  boatman  was  suffer 
ing  from  intense  anxiety  regarding  the  duties  of  his  occupa- 


AMONG      THE      BREAKERS.  157 

tion.  It  had  been  Ins  employer's  pride  to  be  always  first 
in  the  incoming  course  of  the  California  steamers,  and  now 
his  little  craft  lay  with  its  sails  furled  in  a  cove  below  the 
house,  waiting  for  a  signal  to  put  to  sea.  The  man  had 
been  very  anxious  to  intercept  the  steamers  of  that  month, 
because  it  was  thought  that  Mr.  Mellen  might  possibly  be 
on  board,  and  he  was  sure  of  a  good  round  sum,  in  that  case, 
for  bringing  this  gentleman  on  shore,  while  his  superior, 
the  pilot,  took  the  steamer  into  port. 

North  heard  all  these  muttered  regrets  as  he  sat  gloomily 
in  the  bar-room,  and  they  seemed  to  affect  him  more  than 
so  unimportant  a  subject  should  have  done.  It  was  now 
drawing  towards  night,  and  the  man  became  terribly  rest 
less,  for  the  pilot  was  expected  every  moment,  and  from 
vague  conjecture  the  poor  fellow  worked  his  mind  up  into  a 
certainty  that  Mellen  would  come,  and  the  reward  for  bring 
ing  him  on  shore  be  lost. 

"  If  there  was  only  a  man  about  that  could  take  care  of 
the  craft,"  he  said,  "  Fd  divide  with  him  a  fair  half  to  take 
my  place,  but  there  isn't,  and  ten  chances  to  one  the  boss 
loses  his  chance  with  the  steamer,  all  because  of  this  con 
founded  foot  of  mine.  I  wish  we'd  let  the  passengers 
drown  ;  well,  not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  but  it's  plaguey  hard 
on  a  fellow  to  give  up  his  luck  in  this  way." 

The  bar-room  happened  to  be  empty  just  then,  with  the 
exception  of  North  and  the  injured  man.  North  aroused 
himself  and  looked  around.  Seeing  no  listeners  near,  he 
went  up  to  the  grumbler,  and  began  to  condole  with  him. 

"  Is  there  no  one  who  can  take  your  place  ? "  he 
questioned. 

"  Not  a  man.  These  fellows  do  well  enough  in  fishing 
boats  that  can  hug  the  shore,  but  sometimes  the  boss  runs 
his  craft  clear  out  to  sea.  Besides,  this  weather  is  enough 
to  frighten  a  fresh  hand,"  was  the  impatient  answer. 

"  What  if  I  should  make  an  offer  to  go." 


158  AMONG     THE      BREAKERS. 

"  You ! " 

The  man  laughed  in  spite  of  his  pain  and  annoyance. 
"  You.     I  like  that." 

"  But  I  can  handle  a  boat  in  pretty  rough  waters,  let  me 
tell  you,  my  man." 

"  But  you  look  too  much  of  a  gentleman.  The  boss 
would  never  trust  you." 

"  Oh,  a  suit  of  your  clothes,  which  I  see  they  have  had 
sense  enough  to  dry,  and  a  few  things  I  have  on  hand  will 
make  that  all  right." 

"  But,  how  much  ?  how  much  ? "  inquired  the  man, 
anxiously. 

"  Why,  nothing ;  I  shall  go  for  the  fun  of  it,  or  not 
at  all." 

"  That's  the  idea,"  answered  the  seaman,  rubbing  his 
hands  —  which  still  trembled  with  weakness  —  in  sudden 
delight,  "  a  real  gentleman  and  no  mistake,  but  bear  a 
hand  at  once.  It  won't  do  for  the  commodore  to  find 
you  in  this  rig." 

(t  Aye,  aye,"  answered  North,  sailor  fashion,  and  in  a 
voice  that  seemed  hoarse  from  years  of  sea  service. 

The  man  started  up  on  the  settee,  aroused  to  dangerous 
enthusiasm  by  astonishment. 

"  That's  the  time  o'  day,"  he  cried  in  high  glee. 
North  snatched  up  the  seaman's  clothes,  and  retired 
with  them  into  a  little  room  back  of  the  bar.  He  had 
got  over  the  first  shock  of  nervousness  regarding  the 
dead  body  lying  upstairs,  but  still  shrunk  from  looking 
on  it  again  with  shuddering  terror.  The  remembrance 
of  his  crime  did  not  prevent  the  contemplation  of  an 
other  equally  atrocious,  but  he  did  not  care  to  look  on 
that  sight  again.  After  a  little  he  came  out  from  the 
room,  so  completely  changed  that  the  sick  man  stared 
wildly  at  him,  and  called  out, 

"  Where  away,  messmate ;    are   you  one  of  the  fellows 
we  saved  from  the  wreck  ?  " 


AMONG      THE      BREAKERS.  159 

North  laughed,  settled  himself  in  his  loose  clothes, 
sailor  fashion,  and  walked  with  wide  steps  across  the 
floor,  as  if  it  had  been  a  quarter-deck.  A  dawning  con 
viction  of  the  truth  seized  upon  the  man.  He  fell  back 
upon  the  settee,  uttering  broken  ejaculations  of  delight 
intermingled  with  groans. 

"  That'll  do.  It's  all  right.  He'll  take  you  for  one  of 
the  chaps  we  saved  from  the  wreck,  and  ask  no  questions," 
he  panted  out. 

"  It's    going  to  be  a  roughish  night,"  said  North, 
hope    your   Mr.   Mellen    can   swim,   if  we   happen  to   get 
into  any  trouble." 

"  No,  no,  don't  depend  on  that,  but  he  knows  the  coast, 
and  is  as  brave  as  a  lion  ;  still  I  shouldn't  like  him  to  be 
brought  into  danger,  remember  that." 

"  It's  not  at  all  likely  that  he'll  be  on  board,"  answered 
North,  carelessly. 

"  Hush  up,"  cried  the  seaman,  "  don't  you  hear  the 
commodore  coming?  They've  just  told  him  about  this 
confounded  foot.  Hear  him  swear." 

The  pilot  came  in  while  his  assistant  was  speaking. 

"What  the  thunder  is  all  this  about?  just  when  I 
wanted  you  most,  too,  and  a  rough  night.  They'll  get 
ahead  of  us,  and  all  through  this  confounded  wrecking 
business.  Couldn't  you  keep  out  of  it  for  once,  you 
rascal ?  " 

"  Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  commodore.  It's  all  right," 
cried  the  man,  pointing  to  North ;  "  here's  a  chap  I  have 
done  a  service  to,  who  is  willing  to  take  my  night's  work 
on  himself,  just  out  of  gratitude.  He's  a  safe  hand." 

"Let  him  bear  away,  then,"  cried  the  pilot,  casting  a 
glance  at  North,  which  seemed  to  prove  satisfactory; 
"  come  on,  my  man,  we  have  no  time  to  lose." 

North  followed  the  pilot  in  silence,  only  stopping  by  the 
sick  man  long  enough  to  whisper, 


1GO  AMONG      THE      BREAKERS. 

"  Don't  mention  this  to  a  living  soul ! " 

The  man  promised,  and  kept  his  word. 

The  pilot  boat  was  soon  unmoored  and  flying  out  to  sea 
like  a  stormy  petrel.  North  performed  his  duty  well,  and 
received  a  word  or  two  of  commendation  from  the  superior, 
which  proved  the  efficacy  of  his  disguise,  for  he  had  seen 
this  person  more  than  once  at  the  shore  tavern. 

At  last  they  came  in  sight  of  a  large  steamer  laboring 
heavily  with  a  roughish  sea  and  uncertain  wind.  She 
hailed  them,  and  the  little  boat  bore  down  upon  her.  The 
steamer  lay  to,  and  the  pilot  mounted  her  side,  after  giving 
some  directions  to  his  man.  A  crowd  of  persons  met  him 
as  he  leaped  over  the  bulwarks,  and  among  them  North 
searched  with  burning  eagerness  for  that  one  face.  It 
appeared  at  last,  looking  down  upon  the  boat  from  over  the 
bulwarks.  The  bad  man's  heart  rose  to  his  mouth  ;  he 
watched  every  movement  on  deck  with  keen  interest. 

The  pilot  came  to  Mellen's  side,  and  made  a  signal  for 
the  boat  to  wait.  Then  some  luggage  was  lowered  and 
Grantley  Mellen  came  down  the  side  of  the  steamer,  and 
took  his  seat  in  the  little  craft,  which  flew  away  with  him 
towards  the  clouded  shore.  The  wind  increased  as  they 
sped  along,  and  though  not  so  terrible  as  it  had  been  when 
that  other  vessel  was  wrecked,  it  gradually  rose  to  a  degree 
of  violence  that  threatened  the  little  pilot  boat  with  destruc 
tion.  But  the  gale  blew  shoreward,  and  urged  the  boat  on 
till  it  fairly  leaped  over  the  hissing  waves. 

A  dismal  twilight  came  on,  and  the  storm  was  rapidly 
increasing  to  its  full  power  as  they  drew  near  the  shore. 
The  wind  roared  among  the  hills,  and  lashed  the  waters 
into  foam,  the  rain  beat  heavily  and  chill  as  sleet,  but  Mr. 
Mellen  sat  cold  and  firm  on  his  luggage,  neither  heeding 
the  disguised  boatman's  ejaculations  or  offering  to  aid  him 
in  his  difficult  task. 

It  was  a  position  to  test  the  courage  of  the  strongest  man, 


AMONG     THE      BREAKERS. 


161 


and  many  a  time  it  seemed  that  the  wind  and  waves  must 
conquer  and  swamp  the  light  craft  completely;  but  no 
matter  how  rude  or  sudden  the  shock,  Mr.  Melleri  neither 
betrayed  any  anxiety,  nor  gave  any  more  sympathy  to  the 
toiling  boatman,  than  if  he  had  been  a  wooden  machine. 

The  disguised  seaman  now  and  then  cast  a  furtive  look  at 
his  passenger,  who  seemed  almost  unconscious  of  the  in 
creasing  gale.  A  heavy  gusf  sometimes  seized  his  cloak  and 
sent  it  sweeping  out  like  the  wings  of  a  great  bird,  but  he 
only  pulled  it  impatiently  about  him  and  sat  quiet  again, 
looking  out  through  the  stern  night. 

This  perilous  voyage  was  a  long  one,  and  its  difficulties 
grew  fearfully  as  they  neared  the  end.  The  wind  seemed 
to  come  from  every  point  at  once,  and  tossed  the  boat  about 
till  it  fairly  leaped  in  the  water,  as  if  trying  to  escape 
from  its  combined  enemies. 

Suddenly  the  rain  almost  ceased,  the  clouds  parted,  and 
the  moon  cast  a  frightened  glare  over  the  scene.  In  the 
distance  Mr.  Mellen  could  see  his  own  dwelling,  with  the 
broad  sweep  of  woods  and  waters  in  front ;  then  a  sharp 
exclamation  from  his  companion  aroused  him  to  the  new 
dangers  that  threatened  him. 

The  boat  had  been  swept  in  near  the  shore,  where  a 
ring  of  sunken  rocks  girdled  the  beach,  breaking  the 
waves  into  whirlpools,  and  sending  the  white  foam  out 
into  the  storm.  In  this  spot  that  good  ship  had  gone 
down,  yet  the  boatman  made  no  effort  to  veer  his  little 
craft  from  the  awful  danger,  but  with  a  furious  light  in 
his  eyes  and  a  horrid  smile  on  his  lips,  bore  down  upon 
the  breakers.  True,  it  required  almost  superhuman 
strength  to  turn  the  course  of  that  light  craft,  for  the 
blast  was  dashing  it  forward  like  a  battalion  of  fiends. 

They  were  close  upon  the  breakers,  when  Mellen  sprang 
up,  pushed  the   boatman    back  with  a  violence  that  sent 
him  headlong  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  seized  the 
10 


162  AMONG      THE      BREAKERS. 

helm  himself.  Mr.  Mellen  struggled  with  all  the  power 
desperation  gives  a  man,  but  his  efforts  were  futile  as 
those  of  a  child.  The  boat  spun  round  and  round  till 
they  were  fairly  dizzy ;  another  fierce  blast  and  they 
were  blown  directly  into  the  breakers. 

Mellen's  agonized  cry  was  answered  by  a  hoarse  mur 
mur  from  his  companion,  which  sounded  like  a  maledic 
tion.  Before  either  could  think  or  act,  a  more  violent 
blast  raging  up  from  the  sea,  struck  the  skiff  and  whirled 
it  in  among  the  rocks. 

Now  Mellen's  eyes  kindled,  and  all  the  reserved  force 
of  his  character  came  out.  He  knew  every  inch  of  the 
coast  for  miles  each  way.  Through  these  boiling  white 
breakers  was  a  channel  wide  enough  to  carry  them  over, 
and  towards  that  he  forced  the  little  craft,  which  seemed 
absolutely  to  leap  through  the  breakers  into  the  leaden 
current,  where  she  rested  one  moment,  trembling  from 
stem  to  stern  like  a  great  crippled  bird  hunted  to  death 
by  the  elements. 

North  saw  that  they  were  in  possible  safety.  He  had 
not  anticipated  a  storm  so  terrible  as  that,  but  had  in 
tended  to  swamp  his  boat  in  the  breakers  and  swim 
ashore,  leaving  Mellen,  who  could  not  swim,  as  he  sup 
posed,  to  his  fate.  But  now  everything  else  was  forgot 
ten  in  a  cowardly  thirst  for  life.  No  man  could  exist  for 
a  moment  in  that  awful  riot  of  waters.  He  watched 
Mellen  as  he  kept  the  boat  steadily  in  the  current,  with 
the  keen  anxiety  of  a  man  to  whom  death  is  the  terror 
of  terrors. 

The  little  craft  swept  on,  reeling  and  recoiling  along 
the  narrow  path  into  comparatively  smooth  waters.  Mel 
len,  still  with  one  hand  bearing  down  the  helm,  seized 
the  cable  and  flung  it  towards  the  disguised  boatman, 
who  lifted  his  wild  face  for  the  orders  he  had  not  the 
power  to  ask. 


AMONG      THE      BREAKERS.  163 

"  Be  ready,"  cried  Mellen,  with  the  quick  resolution 
which  marked  his  character,  "jump  out  as  she  nears  that 
rock — we  are  safe  then." 

They  both  stood  upright  in  the  boat,  swaying  to  and 
fro,  but  managing  to  retain  a  firm  position. 

Again  the  hope  of  safetj*-  seemed  a  delusive  one  ;  the 
skiff  swooped  away  from  the  rock,  spun  more  giddily 
about,  and  threw  both  men  upon  their  knees.  Another 
instant  that  seemed  endless.  —  an  instant  which  decided 
the  fate  of  both,  as  far  as  this  world  was  concerned, — 
these  men  trembled  on  the  brink  of  eternity.  If  the  skiff 
obeyed  the  counter  blast  that  was  upon  them  and  swept 
towards  the  breakers,  they  were  lost ;  still  there  was  a 
hope,  if  it  veered  upon  the  rock  which  loomed  out  from 
the  shore. 

The  moon  gave  light  enough  to  enable  them  to  watch 
the  scene  and  see  their  danger.  Again  the  conflicting 
blasts  struck  them  ;  the  boat  reeled,  righted  itself  and  was 
dashing  by  the  rock,  upon  which  the  two  men  sprang  by  a 
simultaneous  movement.  A  few  more  vigorous  leaps  and 
they  reached  the  shore,  standing  there  for  a  moment  in 
breathless  awe.  Then  they  commenced  hauling  in  the 
crippled  boat,  which  the  blast  had  seized  upon  and  was 
tearing  out  to  sea. 

"  Safe  !  "  cried  Mellen,  in  a  tone  of  hearty  thanksgiving. 
"  I  did  think  that  the  brave  little  craft  would  go  down,  but 
thank  God,  we  are  on  dry  land." 

"Safe  and  defeated!''*  muttered  North,  turning  his  face 
from  the  wind.  "The  storm  that  helped  me  two  days  ago 
proves  treacherous  now." 

"  Come !  "  shouted  Mellen,  lashing  the  cable  to  a  stunted 
pine  that  grew  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock,  "  come  up  to  the 
house,  we  shall  find  a  fire  there  and  a  glass  of  brandy. 
The  old  man  will  send  some  of  his  people  for  the  luggage." 

North  made  no  answer,  but  moved  oif  towards  the  house, 


164  BEAD      AND      GONE. 

which    he    passed,   walking   moodily  towards    the   village. 
Mellen  went  up  to  the  tavern. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

DEAD    AND    GONE. 

LIGHTS  shone  cheerfully  through  the  uncurtained  win 
dows  of  the  Sailor's  Safe  Anchor,  and  the  stranger  could 
see  the  inmates  of  the  dwelling  gathered  about  the  tea- 
table,  looking  comfortable  enough  to  make  a  strong  contrast 
to  the  chill  and  darkness  without. 

"There  is  not  the  least  change,"  he  muttered,  drawing 
his  cloak  more  closely  about  him  ;  "  I  could  almost  think  I 
had  been  gone  only  since  morning,  instead  of  two  years." 

He  hurried  on  to  the  house,  and  hardly  waiting  for  his 
imperative  knock  to  be  answered,  pushed  open  the  door  and 
entered  the  kitchen.  The  old  fisherman  looked  tranquilly 
up  at  the  intruder,  keeping  his  knife  poised  in  one  hand, 
not  easily  ruffled  in  his  serenity,  while  the  younger  mem 
bers  of  the  family  stared  with  all  their  might  at  the  tall 
man,  whose  garments  were  dripping  wet,  driven  by  the 
storm  into  their  dwelling. 

"  Good  evenin',  sir,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  it's  a  dark,  wet 
night — wont  you  sit  down  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  horse  and  a  man,"  said  Mellen,  betraying  by 
the  haste  in  which  he  spoke,  and  his  impatient  movements, 
^hat  he  was  too  hurried  for  much  attention  to  the  old  man's 
attempt  at  civility.  "I  want  to  go  to  the  other  end  of  the 
bay — can  you  let  me  have  a  horse  and  some  one  to  look 
after  my  luggage  ?  " 

"What,  to-night?"  demanded  the  old  man.  "Why 
you  can't  want  to  go  round  the  bay  to-night." 


DEAD      AND      GONE.  1G5 

"  I  should  not  have  come  for  a  horse  if  I  had  not  wished 
to  get  home,"  said  Mellen,  impatiently.  "  Get  one  out  at 
once,  Benson  ;  I  am  in  great  haste." 

"  'Taint  a  decent  night  to  put  a  dog  out  o'  doors,'7 
returned  the  fisherman ;  "  it's  a  good  deal  rnor'n  likely 
you'd  get  swamped  in  the  marsh,  if  I  let  the  hoss  go." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Mellen.  "  I  know  this  part  of 
the  country  too  well  for  that.  There  is  no  more  risk  than 
in  this  room." 

The  old  man's  obstinacy  was  roused,  and  he  had  a  full 
share  of  that  unpleasant  quality  when  he  chose  to  call  it 
into  action. 

"  Mebby  you  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,"  he  grum 
bled  ;  "  but  I've  lived  here  a  goin'  on  thirty  years,  and  ort 
to  be  acquainted  with  this  coast,  and  I  say  I  ain't  a  going 
to  risk  my  critters  sich  a  night.  If  there  ain't  no  danger 
'taint  fit  to  send  any  horse  out  in  a  storm  like  this  any 
how." 

"  I  can't  stand  arguing  here,"  Mellen  began,  but  the  old 
man  unceremoniously  interrupted  him. 
"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Over  to  Piney  Cove." 

"  Mr.  Mellen's  place  !  Why  it's  good  three  miles,  and 
he  ain't  to  hum,  nor  hasn't  been,  nigh  on  to  two  years." 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  old  friend  ? "  exclaimed  Mellen 
throwing  back  his  cloak. 

The  old  fisherman  rose  in  astonishment,  while  his  mar 
ried  daughter,  who  kept  his  house  and  owned  the  flock  of 
children,  called  out : 

"  Why,  pa,  if  it  ain't  Mr.  Mellen!" 

"  I  thought  I  knowed  your  voice,  but  couldn't  make  out 
who  it  belonged  to  ;  but  Californy  ain't  so  nigh  as  some 
other  places,"  said  the  fisherman.  "  So  you've  got  back ! 
Wai,  wal !  You've  been  gone  a  good  while." 

"  So  you  can't  wonder  at  my  impatience  when  I  find 
myself  so  near  home,"  said  Mellen. 


166  DEAD      AND      GONE. 

"In  course,  in  course,"  replied  the  old  man.  "But, 
dear  me,  you'll  have  to  wait  till  Jake  comes  in,  and  I 
expect  he'll  grumble  awful  at  having  to  start  out  agin." 

"  I  will  pay  him  his  own  price -" 

"Oh,  you  allays  was  freehanded  enough,  I'll  say  that, 
Mr.  Mellen.  But  sit  down  by  the  stove  ;  Jake  '11  come  in 
a  few  minutes.  Mebby  you'd  try  a  cup  of  tea  ?  " 

But  Mr.  Mellen  refused  the  proffered  hospitality,  and 
though  he  walked  up  to  the  fire,  neither  sat  down  or  paid 
much  attention  to  the  questions  the  old  man  hazarded. 

As  Mellen  stood  there,  though  his  restless  movements 
betrayed  great  impatience,  there  was  little  trace  of  it  visi 
ble  in  his  face,  whose  cold  pride  seldom  revealed  the  emo 
tions  which  might  be  stirring  at  his  heart.  He  was 
dressed  in  his  sea  clothes,  which  hung  about  him  in  wet 
masses.  His  face  was  bronzed  by  the  exposure  of  a  long 
sea  voyage,  but  he  was  still  a  man  of  imposing  presence, 
and  retained  his  old,  proud  manner  so  thoroughly,  that 
even  the  old  man  in  his  fever  of  curiosity,  felt  the  same 
hesitation  at  questioning  him  too  far  which  had  always 
awed  the  villagers  when  Mr.  Mellen  formerly  dwelt  among 
them. 

"  I  s'pose  you've  seen  a  sight  sence  you  went  away,"  said 
the  old  man,  as  he  pushed  his  chair  towards  the  fire.  "  All 
them  gold  mines ;  though  I  don't  s'pose  you  went  to  work 
at  them.  People  will  talk  you  know,  and  they  wondered 
at  your  going  off  in  such  a  hurry " 

"  Do  you  think  that  man  will  be  here  soon  ?  "  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Mellen. 

The  fisherman  felt  ruffled  and  injured  at  having  his  gos 
siping  propensities  cut  short  in  that  manner,  but  that 
instant  a  step  sounded  on  the  stone  porch  without,  and  ho 
said,  grumb-lingly  : 

"  There  he  is.  1  'spect  there'll  be  a  touse  about  getting 
him  to  go." 


DEAD      AND      GONE.  1G7 

But  Mr.  Mellon  took  the  matter  in  his  own  hands  when 
the  man  entered,  and  the  liberal  offer  he  made  speedily  put 
Jake  in  excellent  spirits  for  the  expedition. 

"My  baggage  mast  be  disposed  of  first,"  said  Mr.  Mel- 
len.  "  Some  one  must  get  it  from  the  pilot-boat." 

"  Jake  and  I'll  fetch  it  in  here,"  returned  the  old  man. 

"  I  will  send  for  it  in  the  morning,"  observed  Mr. 
Mellen. 

While  they  went  down  to  the  shore  and  were  bringing  in 
the  trunks  Mr.  Mellen  stood  by  the  fire,  quite  regardless 
of  the  curiosity  with  which  the  children  regarded  him,  and 
unconscious  of  several  modest  attempts  at  conversation 
made  by  the  old  man's  daughter : 

"Your  clothes  are  wringing  wet;  hadn't  you  better  get 
some  things  of  father's  and  start  dry  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Mellen,  glancing  at  the  water-proof 
rarpet-bag  which  he  had  seized  on  leaving  the  boat,  remem 
bering  that  it  contained  important  papers.  (l  I  have  some 
things  in  here,  and  they  will  find  my  macintosh  in  the 
boat." 

He  left  the  room  while  speaking,  and,  knowing  the  house 
well,  went  upstairs,  in  order  to  change  his  wet  garments. 
The  young  woman  uttered  a  little  cry  of  dismay  and  ran  a 
step  or  two  after  him,  but  turned  back,  seized  with  terror 
of  the  dead  body,  about  which  she  would  gladly  have  given 
warning. 

Mellen  had  taken  a  candle  from  the  table  when  he  left 
the  kitchen,  and  entered  the  little  room  upstairs  with  it 
flaring  in  his  hand.  It  did  not  illuminate  the  whole  cham 
ber,  but  a  cold  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  .the  man  as  he 
stepped  over  the  threshold,  and  a  shudder,  which  sprang 
from  neither  cold  nor  wet,  passed  to  his  heart. 

With  a  trembling  hand  he  set  the  light  on  a  little  pine 
table  and  looked  around.  A  bed  stood  in  the  further  cor 
ner  of  the  rpom,  a  great  and  coldly  white  bed,  on  which  a 


168  DEAD      AND      GONE. 

human  form  was  lying  in  such  awful  stillness  as  death 
alone  knows. 

Breathless  and  obeying  a  terrible  fascination,  he  went  up 
to  the  bed  and  drew  down  the  coarse  linen  sheet.  A  beau 
tiful  face,  chiselled  from  the  marble  of  death,  lay  before  him, 
with  a  cold  smile  on  the  lips,  and  the  blue  of  the  eyes,  that 
had  been  like  violets,  tinging  the  white  lids  that  covered 
them.  Masses  of  rich  chestnut  hair  were  gathered  back 
from  the  face  ;  and  over  the  bosom,  struck  cold  in  the  bloom 
of  life,  two  white  hands  were  folded  in  an  attitude  of  sol 
emn  prayerfulness. 

As  Mellen  gazed  on  this  cold  vision  his  lips  grew  white 
with  terrible  emotions,  for  he  knew  that  face,  notwithstand 
ing  all  the  changes  that  years  and  an  awful  death  had  left 
upon  it.  Moment  after  moment  crept  by  and  he  did  not 
move.  At  last,  reaching  forth  his  hand,  he  touched  the 
woman's  hair,  then  a  convulsion  of  grief  swept  over  him, 
his  eyes  filled,  his  lips  quivered  and  he  fell  upon  his  knees 
crying  out : 

"  Oh,  woman,  woman,  has  he  driven  you  to  this  ?  " 

The  stillness,  which  was  his  only  answer,  crept  to  his 
heart.  He  arose,  covered  the  face  of  his  false  love,  and 
quitted  the  room,  leaving  the  candle  behind.  He  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  her  tying  alone  in  that  grim  darkness. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  so  sorry.  It  was  dreadful  to  let  you  go 
upstairs  to  dress  and  find  that"  cried  the  woman,  in  a 
tumult  of  self-reproach. 

"  When  did  it  happen  ?  "  he  questioned,  in  a  hoarse 
voice.  "  When  and  how  ?  " 

"  Day  before  yesterday.  It  was  washed  ashore  from  the 
wreck." 

Mellen  turned  away  and  asked  no  more  questions. 
Enough  for  him  that  the  woman  he  had  once  loved  to 
idolatry,  had  passed  out  of  his  life  forever  and  ever. 


HOME      IN     A     STORM.  169 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HOME     IN     A     STORM. 

THE  storm  was  still  raging  upon  the  ocean  and  sweeping 
its  cold  way  across  the  island ;  but  Melleu  was  not  a  man 
to  rest  within  sight  of  his  own  dwelling,  after  a  long 
absence,  without  an  effort  to  reach  it  in  defiance  of  wind  or 
weather.  So,  heedless  of  all  protestations,  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  forward,  with  the  wind  howling  around  him 
and  the  rain  beating  in  his  face.  His  temporary  attendant 
grumbled  a  little  at  the  violence  of  the  storm,  while  the 
darkness  was  so  intense  that  both  the  horses  went  stumb 
ling  on  their  way  like  blind  creatures  on  an  unknown  path. 
But  Mellen  scarcely  heeded  the  danger  or  discomfort.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  lights  of  his  own  home,  which  twin 
kled  now  and  then  through  the  fog  and  rain,  like  stars 
striving  to  break  through  a  cloud. 

Their  road  ran  along  the  coast,  and  they  had  the  rushing 
winds  and  roar  of  the  ocean  all  the  way.  Before  they 
reached  the  Piney  Cove  grounds  the  blackness  of  the  tempest 
began  to  break  away  overhead  ;  the  wind  had  lulled  a 
little,  but  the  rain  still  beat,  and  at  intervals  the  moon 
would  burst  through  the  clouds  and  add  to  the  ghostly 
effect  of  boiling  foam  in  the  distance. 

They  passed  through  the  strip  of  woodland  which  ex 
tended  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  at  last  reached  the 
grounds  connected  with  the  dwelling  upon  that  side,  and 
came  out  upon  the  broad  lawn. 

"  Home  at  last ! "  cried  Mellen,  as  a  warm  glow  of  lights 
shone  out  from  his  dwelling.  "  Eide  on,  my  man  ;  you 
shall  sleep  here  to-night,  and  return  in  the  morning." 

In  his  exultation  Mellen  dashed  forward,  urging  his  horse 
across  the  open  space  till  he  was-considerably  in  advance  of 


170  TCo  ME      IN      A      STORM. 

his  attendant.  The  moon  shivered  out  again  for  an  instant, 
and  Mr.  Mellen  saw  a  woman  shrouded  in  a  long  cloak 
rushing  towards  the  house.  Some  instinct,  rather  than 
any  real  recognition  of  her  person,  made  him  cry  out,  as  he 
leaped  from  the  horse  and  left  him  free  : 

"  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  !  " 

The  figure  paused.  There  was  a  faint  cry  ;  at  the  same 
instant  Mellen  heard  a  violent  rustle  in  the  shrubbery,  with 
a  sudden  downpour  of  raindrops,  scarcely  noticed,  as  he 
hurried  towards  the  lady,  but  well  remembered  afterwards. 
She  was  standing  upright  and  still,  as  if  that  unexpected 
voice  had  changed  her  to  stone  ;  her  hair  had  broken  loose 
and  was  streaming  wildly  over  her  shoulders  ;  one  hand  was 
lifted  above  her  eyes,  as  she  strained  her  sight  through  the 
gloom. 

"  Elizabeth  !  "  he  called  again. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  she  cried,  in  a  suppressed  voice,  that  had 
all  the  sharpness  of  an  agonised  shriek.  "  Who  calls  to 

He  reached  her  side  as  she  spoke. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  My  wife  !  my 
wife  !  I  have  come  back  at  last ! " 

There  was  one  wild  look — one  heavy  breath — he  heard  a 
low  exclamation  : 

"  My  God  !  oh,  my  God  !  " 

Before  he  could  discover  whether  this  was  a  cry  of  thanks 
giving  or  not,  she  fell  forward  and  lay  motionless  at  his  feet. 

After  that  first  second  of  stupefaction,  Mr.  Mellen  checked 
the  wonderment  of  the  man — who  by  this  time  had  come  up 
— and  between  them  they  carried  the  senseless  woman  to 
the  house. 

The  servant  who  met  them  in  the  hall  gave  a  cry  of  dis 
may  at  the  sight  of  her  master  thus  suddenly  entering  the 
house  with  his  wife  lying  like  a  dead  woman  in  his  arms, 
and  was  ready  to  believe  that  the  whole  sight  was  a 
ghostly  illusion. 


HOME      IN     A     STORM.  171 

"Bring  some  wine,"  called  Mellen  j  '•'  is  there  a  fire? 
Are  you  deaf  and  blind,  girl  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  rnasther ! "  exclaimed  the  frightened  crea 
ture.  "  It's  the  masther  come  back  —  oh,  I  thought  I'd 
seed  ghosts  at  last !  " 

Her  cries  brought  the  whole  household  up  from  the 
basement;  but  regardless  of  their  wonder  and  alarm, 
Grantley  Mellen  carried  his  wife  away  towards  the 
library,  and  laid  her  upon  a  couch. 

It  was  some  moments  before  Elizabeth  Mellen  opened 
her  eyes,  then  she  glanced  about  with  a  vacant,  startled 
look,  as  if  unable  to  comprehend  what  had  happened. 

Her  husband  was  standing  in  the  shadow,  gazing  down 
at  her  with  the  strange,  moody  look  so  unlike  the  active 
alarm  which  would  have  filled  the  mind  of  most  men, 
and  she  did  not  at  first  perceive  his  presence. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  Grantley,"  she  murmured.  "  I — I 
have  gone  mad  at  last." 

"  Elizabeth ! " 

She  struggled  up  on  the  couch,  and  looked  towards  him 
with  a  wild  expression  of  the  eyes,  forced  out  by  recent 
terror  or  sudden  joy  at  finding  that  she  had  not  been 
deceived  by  some  mental  illusion. 

"  Is  it  you,  Grantley  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Is  it  really 
you  ?  " 

"  It  is  I,"  he  said ;  "  but  it  is  a  strange  welcome  home 
to  a  man  when  he  finds  his  wife  wandering  about  in 
the  storm,  and  sees  her  faint  at  the  sound  of  his  voice." 

Elizabeth  Mellen  forced  her  physical  strength  back  by 
a  sheer  exercise  of  will.  She  sat  upright — >a  singular 
expression  passed  over  her  face  —  an  inward  struggle  to 
appear  like  herself  and  act  as  was  natural  under  the 
circumstances. 

"  I  was  so  frightened,"  she  gasped  ;  "  I  did  not  expect 
you  for  a  fortnight  —  perhaps  a  month.  When  I  heard 


172  HOME      IN     A      STORM. 

your  voice  I  can't  tell  what  I  thought— a  dread — a  terror 
of  something  terrible  —  something  supernatural,  I  mean, 
came  over  me." 

"  But  what  could  have  taken  you  out  of  doors  on  a  night 
like  this  ?  "  he  persisted. 

She  did  not  hesitate  ;  she  hurried  to  answer,  but  it  was 
like  a  person  repeating  words  studied  for  the  occasion, 
and  all  the  while  her  two  hands  clutched  hard  at  the 
arm  of  the  sofa. 

"  I  don't  know  what  drove  me  out,  the  storm  made  me 
wild.  I  thought  of  the  sea — you  on  it,  perhaps — I  don't 
know  why  I  went." 

"You  are  wet,"  he  said — "thoroughly  drenched.  You 
must  change  your  dress." 

She  seemed  to  grasp  at  the  opportunity  to  go  away,  and 
started  up  with  such  eagerness  that  his  suspicious  eyes 
noticed  it. 

"This  is  a  singular  meeting,"  he  said,  bitterly;  "two 
years  apart,  and  not  a  word  of  welcome." 

She  turned  impulsively  towards  him,  and  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  with  a  burst  of  passionate  tears. 

"  I  do  love  you,  Grantley,"  she  cried  ;  "  I  do  love  you  ! 
I  am  so  glad  to  see  you ;  but  this  fright — it  was  so  sud 
den—so " 

Her  voice  died  away  in  a  sob,  and  she  clung  more  closely 
to  him,  while  he  kept  his  arm  about  her  waist,  pressed  his 
lips  on  her  forehead  and  gave  himself  respite  from  the  whirl 
of  dark  thoughts  which  had  been  in  his  jealous  mind.  The 
joy  of  reunion  and  the  pleasure  of  finding  himself  at  home 
after  that  long  absence,  broke  through  it  all. 

He  felt  her  shiver  all  over,  and  remembered  the  danger 
they  both  ran  standing  there  in  their  wet  clothing. 

"  You  are  cold — shivering — and  I  am  keeping  you  in 
these  wet  things ! "  cried  Grantley,  gathering  her  in  his 
arms  and  mounting  the  stairs.  "  You  are  drenched,  my 


HOME      IN      A      STORM.  173 

sweet  child.  It  was  wrong  to  go  out  in  a  storm  like  this. 
Indeed,  indeed  it  was,  dear  one." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  was  seized  with  a  cold  shivering 
fit  in  his  arms.  He  carried  her  into  the  little  sitting-room, 
and,  seating  her  in  an  easy  chair,  took  off  her  hood  and 
cloak,  speaking  soft,  tender  words  as  he  removed  the  gar 
ments,  and  smoothed  her  hair  with  a  caressing  movement 
of  the  hand. 

"  You  must  change  your  dress,  Elizabeth,"  he  said. 
"  Do  it  at  once.  I  have  some  dry  clothes  in  my  room,  I 
suppose,  which  I  shall  put  on." 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  hurriedly ;  "go — goat  once.  You 
are  glad  to  get  home,  are  you  not  —  glad  to  see  me, 
Grantley  ?  " 

There  was  a  tone  of  almost  piteous  entreaty  in  her  voice  ; 
she  was  so  disturbed  by  the  shock  of  his  sudden  presence 
that  her  nerves  could  not  recover  their  firmness  at  once. 

Grautley  Mellen  held  his  wife  to  his  heart  and  whispered 
fond  and  loving  words,  such  as  he  had  breathed  during  their 
brief  courtship  before  a  shadow  clouded  over  the  beauty  of 
their  lives. 

"There  shall  be  no  more  clouds,"  he  whispered,  "no 
more  trouble.  Look  up,  Elizabeth  !  Say  that  you  love 
me — that  you  are  glad  as  I  am." 

"  I  do  love  you,  my  husband — with  all  my  heart  and  soul 
I  love  you  !  I  am/ glad — very,  very  glad." 

"  And  I  love  you,  Bessie.  I  did  not  know  how  well  until 
I  went  away.  But  we  shall  never  part  any  more — never 
more." 

Elizabeth  was  weeping  drops  as  cold  as  the  rain  on  her 
face.  It  was  unusual  for  her  to  allow  any  feeling  of  joy  or 
pain  to  overcome  her  so  completely. 

"  You  are  weak  and  nervous  to-night,  Bessie,"  he  said, 
tenderly.  <:  I  was  wrong  to  come  upon  you  so  suddenly." 

"No,  no!"    she    cried,    vehemently.     But    even   in    her 


174 


HOME      IN     A      STORM. 


denial  she  shuddered,  remembering  whom  she  had  just  left 
and  how  she  had  met  her  husband. 

Then  she  arose  to  go,  but  staggered  in  her  walk  and  held 
herself  up  with  difficulty.  He  looked  at  her  with  such 
tender  love  in  his  e3Tes  that  she  held  out  her  arms  to  him. 
He  drew  her  close  to  his  bosom  : 

"  Elizabeth,  we  will  be  happy  now." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  in  the  same  hurried  manner,  "  we 
will  be  happy  now — quite  happy." 

She  went  out  of  the  room  as  she  said  these  words  and 
entered  her  chamber,  locking  the  door  carefully  behind  her, 
as  if  she  feared  that  he  might  intrude  upon  her. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  newly-united  husband  and  wife 
met  at  the  supper-table,  and  Grantley  Mellen  saw  that 
Elizabeth  had  quite  recovered  from  the  sudden  shock  of  his 
arrival  in  that  unexpected  way. 

"  I  cannot  realize  it  yet/'  she  said,  coming  into  the  room 
and  walking  up  to  the  hearth  where  he  stood  ;  "  I  cannot 
believe  you  are  actually  here." 

She  stole  close  to  his  side  and  folded  his  hand  in  hers. 
For  an  instant  there  was  a  slight  hesitation  amounting 
almost  to  timidity,  as  if  she  were  doing  something  or 
assuming  a  place  to  which  she  had  no  right,  but  it  passed 
quickly.  She  was  looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  pleasant 
smile,  a  little  pale  yet  from  her  recent  emotion,  or  else  those 
two  years  which  had  elapsed  since  their  parting  had  robbed 
her  of  a  portion  of  her  girlish  bloom, — but  self-possessed  and 
full  of  happiness. 

Grantley  Mellen  looked  at  her  more  closely  as  she  stood 
there  in  the  cheerful  light.  Two  years  had  changed  her, 
but  that  was  natural ;  he  was  altered  too. 

"  Do  I  look  very  different,  Elizabeth  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  browned,  you  look  a  little  older,  perhaps ;  but 
you  are  not  really  changed — you  are  Grantley  still." 


HOME     IN     A      STORM.  175 

"  I  cannot  tell  if  you  are  altered/'  he  said  ;  "  I  must  wait 
till  I  have  seen  you  a  day  or  two.  You  seem  paler — 
thinner." 

She  shivered  a  little,  but  quickly  regained  her  self-control 
and  cheerfulness. 

"You  cannot  judge  how  I  look  to-night/7  she  said.  "I 
am  sorry  Elsie  is  gone." 

"  When  did  she  go  away,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  Only  yesterday  ;  she  seemed  to  be  getting  low  spirited, 
so  I  advised  her  to  visit  Mrs.  Harrington  for  a  while." 

"  I  suppose  she  has  not  left  you  often — you  two  kept 
together  ?  "  he  asked,  the  old  jealousy  creeping  through  his 
voice. 

"  Of  course  ;  she  has  visited  a  little,"  replied  his  wife, 
quietly,  but  she  turned  away  to  the  table  as  she  spoke. 

A  servant  brought  in  the  supper,  and  they  sat  down 
opposite  to  each  other  at  the  board;  but  even  during  those 
first  hours  of  reunion  the  strange  greeting  which  his  return 
had  met  would  linger  in  Grantley  Mellen's  suspicious  mind, 
and,  in  spite  of  Elizabeth's  cheerful  manner,  her  color 
would  come  and  go  with  tremulous  fitfulness.  Sometimes 
there  was  a  restless  expression  in  her  eyes,  and  she  seemed 
with  difficulty  to  repress  a  nervous  start  at  any  sudden 
sound — she  had  not  recovered  wholly,  it  appeared,  from  her 
surprise. 

"You  will  send  for  Elsie  in  the  morning,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  yes.     One  of  the  men  will  go  to  town  early." 

"Don't  tell  her  I  have  come." 

Elizabeth  hesitated. 

"  She  would  be  so  startled  if  I  did  not,"  she  said.  "  I 
really  think  her  happiness  will  be  greater  if  she  expects  to 
meet  you." 

"  As  you  please,"  he  returned,  a  little  coldly.  "  I  believe 
you  are  right.  Surprises  generally  are  failures." 

«  Where  is  Dolf  ?  "  Elizabeth 


176  HOME      IN     A      STORM. 

"  I  sent  him  on  with  the  steamer  to  deliver  some  letters 
I  had  brought  for  various  people  ;  he  will  be  up  in  the 
morning.  He  is  just  the  same  remarkable  darkey  as  ever. 
His  language  is  even  grander,  I  think." 

When  they  were  sitting  over  the  fire  again,  Mr.  Mellen 
said : 

"  Now,  tell  me  everything  that  has  happened  ;  your  letters 
were  all  so  vague." 

"  I  had  nothing  of  importance  to  write,  you  know,"  she 
answered  ;  "  we  were  very  quiet  here." 

"  Has  Elsie  changed  much  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  at  all  j  gay  and  thoughtless  as  ever." 

There  seemed  a  suppressed  bitterness  in  her  voice.  Per 
haps  that  gayety  and  frivolity  had  sometimes  jarred  upon 
the  deeper  chords  in  her  own  nature. 

"  Little  darling  !  "  he  said,  fondly,  "  I  feel  more  attached 
to  her  than  ever  since  I  went  away — she  seems  more  like 
my  daughter  than  my  sister." 

"And  she  loves  you  very  dearly,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  nothing  could  ever  come  between  Elsie  and 
me  !  I  have  thought  of  the  promise  I  made  our  dying 
mother  ;  I  have  kept  it,  Elizabeth — wherever  else  I  have 
erred,  I  have  kept  that  vow." 

"Yes,"  she  said ;J< yes." 

But  the  tone  grew  a  little  absent,  her  eyes  wandered 
about  the  room  as  if  she  were  perplexed  anew  by  some 
thought  far  away  from  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 

"  You  have  been  happy  and  content  here,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  Not  happy,"  she  answered,  "  I  forced  myself  to  be 
patient ;  but  the  time  seemed  very  long." 

"  Then  you  do  love  me  ?  "  he  cried,  suddenly. 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully,  with  some  pain  stirring 
under  that  reproach. 

"  Can  you  ask  me  such  questions  now  ?  " 


HOME      IN     A     STORM.  177 

"  No,  no ;  you  do  love  me.  I  believe  it.  But  you 
know  what  a  morbid,  suspicious  character  mine  is." 

"  I  had  hoped—'1 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  but  sat  twisting  the 
links  of  her  chatelaine  about  her  fingers,  and  looking 
almost  timidly  away  from  his  face. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  "  what  did  you  hope  ?  " 

"  That  this  long  absence  might  have — that — I  hardly 
know  how  to  say  it  without  offending  you." 

"  You  hoped  I  had  learned  to  accept  life  more  like  a 
reasonable  being,  isn't  that  it  ?  I  think  I  have,  Bessie  j 
we  will  be  happy  now,  very  happy;  you  and  Elsie  and  I." 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it  in  his  own  ;  was  it  true  that 
it  trembled,  or  only  his  fancy  that  made  him  think  so  ? 

"  We  shall  be  happy,  Elizabeth  ?  "  he  repeated,  this  time 
leaking  the  words  an  inquiry. 

"I  hope  ;-o  —  oh,  I  do  hope  so!"  she  exclaimed  with 
sudden  passion  ;  "  I  want  to  be  happy,  oh,  my  husband  !  I 
want  to  be  happy." 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  her  head  dropped 
on  his  shoulder ;  but  the  face  which  he  could  not  see  wore  a 
strained,  frightened  look,  as  if  she  saw  some  dark  shadow 
rise  between  her  and  its  fulfilment. 

Mellen  strained  her  to  his  heart,  and  showered  kisses 
down  upon  her  cold  face, — kisses,  so  warm  from  the  heart, 
that  her  cheeks  kindled  into  scarlet  under  them,  and  she 
began  to  weep  those  gentle  tears  that  drop  from  a  loving 
heart  like  dew  from  a  flower. 

"  Our  lives  shall  go  on  quietly  and  pleasantly  now,"  he 
continued,  giving  himself  to  the  full  happiness  of  this  ro 
union  ;  "  we  will  have  one  long  summer,  Bessie,  and  warm 
our  hearts  in  it." 

"  I  have  been  in  the  cold  so  long,"  she  murmured. 

"  But  that  is  over — over  for  ever  I    We  will  be  trustful 
Bessie :  we  will  be  patient  and  loving   always  j  can't  we 
11 


178  HOME      IN      A     STORM. 

promise  each  other  this,  my  wife  ?  "   he  said,  drawing  her 
closer  to  his  bosom. 

"  I  can,  Grantley  ;  I  do  !  " 

"  And  I  promise,  Elizabeth,  I  will  never  be  suspicious  or 
harsh  again.  You  and  I  could  be  so  happy  now." 

"  You  will  love  me  and  trust  me  ! "  she  cried,  almost 
hysterically. 

"  Always,  Bessie,  always  !  " 

Again  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  pressing  kisses  upon 
her  forehead,  and  murmuring  words  which,  from  a  husband's 
lips  are  sweeter  and  holier  than  the  romance  of  courtship 
could  ever  be,  even  in  the  first  glow  of  its  loveliest 
mystery. 

Elizabeth  nestled  closer  to  his  heart,  and  a  feeling  of  rest 
and  serenity  stole  over  her  so  inexpressibly  soothing  and 
sweet,  that  she  almost  longed  to  float  away  for  ever  from 
the  care  and  dimness  of  this  world  upon  the  sacred  hush  of 
that  hour. 

There  was  a  sound  without  which  startled  them  both, 
making  Mellen  turn  hastily,  and  sending  the  sickly  pallor 
anew  across  Elizabeth's  face. 

"  Only  the  wind,"  he  said,  "  blowing  one  of  the  shutters 
to  with  a  crash." 

«  That  is  all,  it " 

She  did  not  finish  ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  window  ; 
she  made  one  movement ;  tried  to  control  herself  5  looked  in 
the  other  direction  before  her  husband  could  observe  the 
eagerness  with  which  her  eyes  had  been  strained  out  into 
the  night;  but  all  her  attempts  at  self-control  were  in  vain  ; 
she  gave  one  heavy  sigh,  and  sank  lower  and  perfectly  help 
less  in  his  arms. 

For  the  second  time  that  evening  Elizabeth  Mellen  had 
swooned  completely  aw^y. 


THE      SUNSHINE      OF      THE      HOUSE.       179 

'CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  SUNSHINE  OF  THE  HOUSE. 

THE  day  was  so  bright  and  beautiful  that  the  preceding 
storm  seemed  only  to  have  added  freshness  to  both  the 
earth  and  sky. 

The  hills  rose  up  rnaje&tic  in  their  richest  verdure,  the 
lovely  bay  was  at  rest  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  long  white 
line  of  distant  water  shone  out  tranquilly,  as  if  no  treach 
erous  wind  would  ever  again  lash  it  into  fury. 

Grantley  Mellen  stood  with  his  wife  on  the  broad  stone 
portico,  looking  towards  the  ocean.  They  had  been  wan 
dering  over  the  house  and  grounds  that  the  master  might 
see  what  changes  had  taken  place  in  his  absence,  talking 
pleasantly  and  gaily,  though  even  in  the  midst  of  his  hap 
piness  the  old  restless  suspicion  would  intrude.  Grantley 
Mellen  could  not  understand  the  strange  agitation  of  his 
wife  at  his  return.  It  troubled  him  even  in  his  newborn 
joy.  She  was  quite  herself  this  morning  ;  so  lovely  in  her 
delicate  mauve  morning  dress,  with  the  soft  lace  relieving 
her  neck  and  wrists.  Her  dark  hair  was  banded  smoothly 
back  from  the  grave,  earnest  face,  and  fell  behind  in  heavy 
braids,  rich  and  glossy  as  the  plumage  of  a  raven.  Her 
mouth  was  tremulous  with  gladness  and  her  whole  face 
kindled  into  smiles  and  blushes  under  her  husband's  gaze. 
She  was  so  calm  that  it  seemed  folly  to  vex  his  heart  with 
vague  fancies,  instead  of  yielding  to  the  full,  rich  joy  of  the 
occasion. 

But  she  was  changed  :  his  jealous  eyes  took  note  of  that. 
She  was  paler,  thinner;  there  was  a  single  line  between  the 
dark  brows  that  had  gathered  there  during  his  absence  ;  an 
added  gravity  about  the  mouth,  a  slight  compression  of  the 
lips,  as  if  they  had  grown  accustomed  to  keeping  secrets 
back. 


180      THE      SUNSHINE      OF      THE      HOUSE. 

Then  with  one  of  those  quick  transitions  of  feeling  pecu 
liar  to  a  mind  like  his,  he  reproached  himself  for  that 
change.  Why  search  for  other  reasons  when  he  remem 
bered  many  things  which  had  preceded  their  parting ;  the 
last  restless  year  of  their  married  life,  disturbed  by  jealousy 
and  suspicion  ;  the  long  months  of  loneliness  which  she 
had  spent  during  his  absence.  There  was  answer  enough 
for  all  the  questions  with  which  he  had  vexed  himself  all 
the  morning. 

"  Of  course  Elsie  will  come  home  in  the  afternoon  boat," 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  don't  think  it  is  in  yet — I  have  not  heard 
the  whistle,"  replied  Elizabeth.  "  Our  people  will  send 
her  across  the  bay  in  a  sailboat,  no  doubt.  It  is  shameful 
of  them  to  leave  the  shore  road  in  the  state  it  is ;  we  must 
either  go  to  the  village  by  water,  or  take  that  long  out-of- 
the-way  back  road." 

"  There  is  a  sailboat  now,"  exclairned-»Mellen,  pointing 
across  the  bay. 

Elizabeth  looked  and  saw  the  tiny  streamers  shining  like 
silver  traceries  in  the  sun. 

"  It  must  be  Elsie,"  she  said,  bringing  a  glass  from  the 
hall,  which  Mr.  Mellen  took  eagerly  from  her  hand. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  can  see  a  woman  in  the  boat — it 
is  Elsie." 

His  face  was  all  aglow  with  brotherly  love ;  a  sweet 
expectation  kept  him  restless.  He  walked  up  and  down 
the  porch  talking  of  his  sister,  asking  a  thousand  trivial 
questions,  and  complaining  of  the  slowness  of  the  little 
boat. 

Elizabeth  stood  leaning  against  one  of  the  pillars,  her 
eyes  shaded  with  her  hand,  looking  over  the  bright  waters. 
The  tranquillity  and  bloom  faded  out  of  her  countenance, 
while  her  husband  talked  so  eagerly  of  his  desire  to  see  the 
child — as  he  called  her.  Sometimes  her  face  grew  almost 


THE      SUNSHINE      OF      THE      HOUSE.       181 

hard  and  stern,  as  if  she  could  not  endure  that  even  this 
beloved  sister  should  come  between  her  heart  and  his  in 
the  first  hours  of  their  reunion. 

The  little  sail-boat  flew  swiftly  on  before  the  wind — draw 
ing  nearer  and  nearer  each  instant — they  could  distinctly 
seethe  young  girl  half  lying  *back  in  the  stern,  allowing 
her  hand  to  fall  in  the  water  with  an  indolent  enjoyment 
of  the  scene. 

She  saw  them  at  last,  fluttered  her  handkerchief  in  the 
air  by  way  of  a  signal,  and  after  that  they  could  see  how 
full  of  eager  impatience  she  was.  Every  instant  her  hand 
kerchief  fluttered  out,  and  when  the  wind  took  that,  she 
unwound  an  azure  scarf  from  her  neck  and  flung  it  on  the 
breeze. 

When  the  boat  neared  the  landing,  Mr.  Mellen  ran  across 
the  lawn  and  received  his  sister  in  his  arms  as  she  sprang 
on  shore. 

Standing  on  the  portico  where  he  had  left  her,  Elizabeth 
regarded  the  pair ;  she  heard  Elsie's  eager  exclamation  of 
joy — her  husband's  deep  voice — then  the  two  blended  in 
confused  and  eager  conversation.  An  absolute  spasm  of 
pain  contracted  the  wife's  features  ;  her  eyes  dilated,  and  a 
moan  broke  from  her  lips. 

"  He  loves  her  so  !  he  loves  her  so  !  He  will  believe  any 
thing  she  says,"  muttered  Elizabeth  in  a  tone  which  trem 
bled  with  passionate  emotions. 

The  sound  of  her  own  voice  seemed  to  recall  her  recollec 
tion  and  the  necessity  of  concealing  these  turbulent  feelings. 
With  that -power  of  self-control  which  she  was  striving  so 
hard  to  strengthen,  in  order  to  bear  her  life  with  calmness, 
she  forced  her  features  into  repose,  and  stood  quietly  waiting 
for  them  to  come  up.  There  was  nothing  in  her  appear 
ance  now  to  betray  agitation  ;  her  pallor  seemed  only  the 
reflection  of  her  mauve  draperies,  and  her  lips  forced  them 
selves  into  a  smile. 


182       THE      SUNSHINE      OF      THE      HOUSE. 

"  There  is  Bessie,"  cried  Elsie,  coming  up  the  lawn, 
clinging  to  her  brother's  arm  with  both  hands,  and  shaking 
her  long  curls  in  the  sunshine,  till  the  sight  of  her  loveli 
ness  and  grace  might  have  softened  for  the  time  even  that 
heart  filled  with  fear  of  her  sisterly  influence,  and  jealous 
of  the  love  which  she  received  with  such  caressing  warmth. 

"  Oh,  Bessie ! "  she  cried,  as  they  reached  the  steps,  "  I 
am  so  happy  !  When  I  got  the  news  this  morning  I  felt  as 
if  I  must  fly  here  directly.  Oh,  you  darling  brother,  to 
come  back  at  all ;  but  you  deserve  to  be  punished  for  stay 
ing  away  so  long! " 

She  raised  herself  on  tiptoe  to  kiss  him  anew,  allowed 
her  bonnet  to  fall  off,  and  her  curls  to  trail  in  bright  con 
fusion  over  her  shoulders ;  then  she  flew  towards  Elizabeth 
and  showered  a  greeting  of  warm  kisses  on  her  face. 

"  Never  mind  that  dark  subject,"  she  whispered  ;  "  we'll 
be  happy  now  in  spite  of  everything." 

Again  that  singular  look  passed  over  Elizabeth  Mellen's 
face  ;  she  listened  and  endured  rather  than  returned  the 
young  girl's  caress,  but  Mr.  Mellen  was  watching  his  sister 
and  did  not  observe  it. 

"  And  isn't  he  brown  ?  "  cried  Elsie,  rushing  over  to  her 
brother  again ;  "  he  looks  like  an  Indian,  don't  he,  Bess  ? 
Oh,  you  bad,  bad  boy,  to  stay  so  long." 

Thus  Elsie  laughed  and  talked  incessantly,  begun  a 
dozen  sentences  without  finishing  one  of  them,  and  was  so 
demonstrative  in  her  expressions  of  affection  to  both,  so 
lovely  in  her  youth  and  brilliant  happiness,  that  it  was  no 
wonder  her  brother  regarded  her  with  that  proud  look ; 
it  seemed  almost  impossible  that  Elizabeth  herself  could 
help  being  won  into  happiness  by  her  caressing  ways. 

"  You'll  never  go  away  again — shall  he,  Bess  ?  But 
isn't  it  luncheon-time  ?  I  could  eat  no  breakfast  for  joy, 
but  I  do  think  I  am  hungry  now." 

Mr.  Mellen  laughed,  and  Elsie  went  on  again. 


SUNSHINE      AND      STORMS.  183 

"  Oh,  Grantley,  I  saw  Dolf  on  the  steamboat ;  he  is  com 
ing  over  with  your  luggage.  The  ridiculous  creature  has 
more  airs  than  ever.  I  wish  you  had  forced  him  to  come 
ashore  in  the  pilot-boat,  it  would  have  been  such  fun,  when 
he  got  among  the  breakers  ;  but,  oh  dear  !  how  frightened 
I  was,  hearing  how  near  you  were  to  getting  in.  It  makes, 
me  feel  pale  now  !  " 

Here  Elsie  gathered  up  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  tossed  her 
curls  back,  kissed  her  brother  again,  and  ran,  off,  saying : 

"  I  must  go  upstairs  and  brush  my  hair.  Do  come,  Bes 
sie  ;  I  never  can  do  it  myself." 

"  I  must  go  and  see  what  the  servants  are  doing,"  Eliza 
beth  said. 

"  Nonsense  !     Come  with  me." 

Elsie  caught  her  sister-in-law  about  the  waist,  waltzed 
away  towards  the  stairs  and  forced  her  to  ascend,  while  Mr. 
Melleii  stood  looking  after  them  with  a  pleasant  smile  on 
his  lips. 


JHAPTEB,  XXVI. 

SUNSHINE     AND     STORMS. 

WHEX  they  reached  Elsie's  room  the  girl  drew  Elizabeth 
in  and  closed  the  door.  Mrs.  Mellen  sank  wearily  into  a 
seat,  as  if  glad  to  escape  from  the  restraint  she  had  been 
putting  upon  herself  all  that  day. 

"  Your  note  frightened  me  so  ! "  cried  Elsie.  "  It  was 
wicked  of  you  to  write  like  that." 

"  He  came  upon  me  so  suddenly,"  gasped  Elizabeth. 
"  I  was  out  in  the  grounds  in  the  rain — I  had  gone  to — " 

"  And  Grantley  came  upon  you  there  ? "  interrupted 
Elsie.  "  What  did  you  do  ?  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  fainted  in  the  end." 


184  SUNSHINE      AND      STORMS. 

"  Good  heavens !  " 

"  Oh,  you  would  have  been  worse  in  my  place,"  returned 
Elizabeth.  "It  was  so  sudden  ;  how  could  I  tell  what  he 
had  seen  ?  " 

"But  you  are  yourself  now.  You  will  not  give  way 
again  ?  " 

"  I  must  not,"  said  Elizabeth  drearily.  "  I  must  bear 
up  now." 

"  Don't  talk  in  that  dreadful  voice,"  shivered  Elsie  ;  "  it 
sounds  as  if  you  were  dying.  I  thought  you  had  more 
courage.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me  ;  if  he  held  a  bowl  of 
poison  to  my  lips  I  wouldn't  tell." 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  what  would  death  be  compared  to  the  agony 
of  discovery  ?  " 

"Do  stop!"  pleaded  Elsie,  pressing  both  rosy  little 
palms  to  her  ears,  with  a  piteous,  shrinking  movement. 
"  We  mustn't  talk.  I  won't  talk,  I  tell  you  !  I  can  put 
everything  out  of  my  head  if  you  will  only  let  me  ;  but  if 
you  look  and  talk  like  that  I  shall  give  way.  Why  can't 
you  try  and  forget  it  ?  I  will.  Be  sure  of  that ! " 

Elizabeth  rose  from  her  seat ;  a  wan,  hopeless  look  came 
over  her  face. 

"  You  are  right ;  let  us  be  silent.  But,  oh,  if  I  only 
could  forget — but  I  can't,  Elsie — I  can't !  The  thought  is 
with  me  day  and  night.  The  dread — the  fear  ! " 

"  Be  still ! "  shrieked  Elsie,  breaking  into  a  passion  of 
which  no  one  would  have  believed  her  capable,  and  stamp 
ing  her  foot  upon  the  carpet.  "  You'll  drive  me  mad.  I 
shall  go  into  spasms,  and  then  who  knows  what  may 
happen !  I  won't  promise  not  to  speak  if  you  drive  me 
crazy." 

All  the  youthful  brilliancy  was  frightened  out  of  her 
face,  her  lips  turned  blue,  her  whole  frame  shook  so  vio 
lently  that  Elizabeth  saw  absolute  danger  unless  the  girl 
were  soothed  back  to  calmness. 


SUNSHINE      AND      STORMS.  185 

"  I  won't  torment  you  any  more,  Elsie,"  she  said.  "  I'll 
bear  it  alone— I'll  bear  it  "alone." 

"  One  can  always  forget  if  one  is  determined,"  said 
Elsie;  "but  you  won't — you  will  brood  over  things " 

"  I  shall  be  more  myself,  now,"  interrupted  Elizabeth. 
lt  It  was  from  seeing  Grantley  so  unexpectedly,  just  when 
I  was  waiting  for " 

"Be  still!"  interrupted  Elsie,  sharply.  "  I  won't  hear 
that — I  won't  hear  anything ;  you  shall  not  force  unpleas 
ant  things  upon  me." 

The  sister  and  the  sister-in-law  stood  opposite  each  other, 
oppressed  by  the  same  secret,  but  bearing  it  so  differently. 
Elsie's  share  seemed  to  be  only  a  burdensome  knowledge  of 
some  mystery ;  no  evil  seemed  to  threaten  her  in  its  discov 
ery,  but  deep  sympathy  appeared  to  have  broken  through 
her  careless  nature,  moulding  it  into  something  grand. 
She  was  the  first  to  recover  from  the  cold,  shivering  distress 
which  had  come  over  both  ;  the  volatile,  impressible  crea 
ture  could  not  dwell  long  enough  upon  one  subject,  however 
painful  it  might  be,  to  produce  the  effect  which  even  slight 
trouble  had  upon  a  character  like  Elizabeth's. 

"  You  look  like  a  ghost,"  she  cried,  in  sudden  irritation. 
"It  is  cruel,  Bessie,  to  frighten  me  in  this  way.  You 
know  what  a  weak,  nervous  little  thing  I  am.  It  is  wicked 
of  you  !  " 

Elizabeth  turned  slowly  towards  the  door. 

"  Be  at  peace,  if  you  can,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  trouble  you 
no  more." 

"  Now  you  are  angry  ! "  cried  Elsie. 

"No,  dear,  not  angry." 

"  Kiss  me,  then,  and  make  up,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  return 
of  childish  playfulness.  "  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,  but  you 
mustn't  put  too  much  on  me ;  you  know  I'm  not  strong, 
like  you." 

Elizabeth  trembled  under  the  touch  of  those  fresh  young 
lips,  but  she  answered,  patiently  : 


186  SUNSHINE      AND      STORMS. 

"  I  will  bear  up  alone  ;  don't  think  about  it." 

«  Oh,  I  shouldn't,"  cried  Elsie,  frankly,  "  only  you  make 
me." 

Elizabeth  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  You  needn't  stare  so,"  said  Elsie,  in  an  injured  tone  ; 
"  I  know  I  am  not  a  deep,  strong  character,  like  you.  But 
let  me  rest — let  me  enjoy  my  little  mite  of  sunshine  !  " 

"  I  will  not  overshadow  it,"  Elizabeth  answered,  "  be 
certain  of  that.  But,  oh,  Elsie,  it's  so  dreadful  to  bear  this 
constant  fear !  If  Grantley  should  find  out  anything — he 
is  so  suspicious " 

"  There  you  go  again  !  "  broke  in  Elsie.  "  I  vow  I  wont 
live  in  the  house  with  you  if  you  act  in  this  way !  Just  as 
one  is  getting  a  little  comfortable  you  begin  all  this  again. 
I  can't  stand  it ;  and  I  won't." 

"  Elizabeth  did  not  reply.  She  looked  at  Elsie  again 
with  a  mingled  expression  of  astonishment  and  fear  ;  but  a 
strange  sort  of  pity  softened  the  glance. 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  of  it,  Elsie,"  she  said,  after  a 
long  silence,  during  which  Elsie  had  shivered  herself  quiet 
once  more,  "  I  ought  to  have  borne  this  trouble  alone  from 
the  first." 

"  That's  a  nice  darling  !  "  cried  Elsie.  "  Nothing  will 
happen,  I  am  sure  of  it.  Just  hope  for  the  best ;  look  at 
everything  as  settled  and  over  with.  Things  don't  keep 
coming  up  to  one  as  they  do  in  a  novel." 

Elizabeth  said  no  more,  she  stood  leaning  against  the 
window  frame  and  watched  Elsie  as  she  arranged  her  ring 
lets  before  the  glass,  and  called  back  the  brilliant  smiles 
which  softened  her  face  into  something  so  youthful  and 
pretty.  Then  they  heard  a  voice  from  below,  which  made 
them  both  start. 

"  It's  Grantley,"  said  Elsie.  "  It  sounds  so  odd  to  hear 
his  voice  !  Open  the  door,  Bessie  ;  I  am  ready." 

She  ran  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  while  Elizabeth  fol 
lowed  slowly. 


SUNSHINE      AND      STORMS.  187 

"  Are  you  calling,  Grant  ?  "  demanded  Elsie,  looking 
down  at  him  as  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Calling!  I  should  think  so!  Are  you  both  going  to 
stay  up  there  for  ever  ?  Dinner  is  ready." 

"  And  so  are  we,"  cried  Elsie,  "  and  corning,  Mr.  Impa 
tience." 

Downstairs  she  tripped,  humming  a  tune  and  making  a 
little  spring  into  her  brother's  arms  when  she  reached  the 
lower  step. 

She  was  such  a  dainty  little  thing,  so  light  and  grace 
ful  in  all  her  movements,  with  such  childish  ways,  such 
power  of  persuasion  and  coquetry,  so  light-hearted  and 
frivolous,  that  it  was  quite  impossible  not  to  love  her  and 
treat  her  as  if  she  were  some  blithe  fairy,  that  would  be 
frightened  out  of  sight  by  a  harsh  word  or  look. 

She  was  just  one  of  those  creatures  whom  ever}Tbody 
fondles  and  pets,  who  have  sacrifices  made  for  them  which 
they  are  never  capable  of  appreciating.  The  loves  and 
fears  and  hates  of  these  flimsy  creatures  are  shallow  and 
transient,  though  capable  of  leading  them  to  great  lengths 
during  their  first  fever;  creatures  whom  we  miss  as  we  do 
sunshine  and  flowers,  or  any  other  pretty  thing ;  for  they 
seem  born  to  feed  upon  the  froth  and  honey-dew  of  life,  and 
from  that  very  fact  take  with  them,  even  towards  middle 
age,  a  fund  of  light-heartedness  and  joyous  spirits,  which 
is,  in  some  sort,  a  return  for  the  demands  they  make  upon 
others. 

It  seemed  hard  that  a  creature  like  this  should  have  her 
youth  burdened  with  any  secret ;  it  was  scarcely  wonderful 
that  she  grew  impatient  and  spoke  harshly  to  Elizabeth 
when  she  insisted  upon  forcing  trouble  on  her  mind,  which 
left  to  itself  she  was  able,  out  of  the  very  shallowness  of 
her  nature,  to  throw  aside  so  completely. 

Wrong  and  cruel  it  seemed  in  Elizabeth  to  burden  her 
thus — she  should  have  kept  Elsie  aloof  from  all  domestic 


188          COURTSHIP      IN      THE     KITCHEN. 

mysteries,  whatever  they  might  be,  and  have  borne  her  sor 
row,  her  fears,  perhaps  her  remorse,  alone.  It  was  not  easy 
to  tell  from  her  faoe  or  her  words  all  that  lay  back  of  her 
half-uttered  despair.  But  she  should  have  endured  in 
silence  things  to  be  held  as  far  away  from  Elsie's  joyous- 
ness  and  Elsie's  youth  as  the  deep  undercurrent  of  her 
character  was  apart  from  the  bird-like  blitheness  which 
made  the  girl  so  pleasant.  Thus  the  world  would  have 
judged  had  they  seen  these  women  standing  there 
together. 


CHAPTER  XXVII.  . 

COURTSHIP   IN    THE    KITCHEN. 

WHILE  they  were  still  seated  at  the  luncheon-table  the 
door  opened,  and  Dolf  came  in  with  a  flourish  of  bows  to 
report  his  return  to  the  master. 

"So,  there  you  are,  Dolf,"  said  Mr.  Mellen,  carelessly. 
"  Did  you  lose  half  the  letters  I  gave  you  to  deliver  ?  " 

Dolf  drew  himself  up  with  a  great  deal  of  dignity. 

"  Master  knows  I'se  trusty  as  Solomon's  seal,"  he  said. 
"  De  'pistles  is  safe  in  de  honorable  hands  for  which  dey 
was  originall}'  intended.'7 

"  I'm  glad  they  went  off  at  the  right  moment,"  said 
Elsie,  laughing. 

Dolf  rather  missed  her  play  upon  his  mispronunciation 
of  the  word,  but  he  gave  another  magnificent  flourish. 

"  Jes  so,  Miss  Elsie ;  you've  'spressed  it  beautiful." 

"How  do  you  do,  Dolf?"  asked  Mrs.  Mellen,  kindly, 
rousing  herself  from  the  abstraction  into  which  she  had 
fallen  while  Elsie  and  her  brother  had  been  chatting  to 
gether.  "  Are  you  glad  to  get  back  ?  " 

"  I'se  ebery  reason  to  be  satisfactory  with  my  health,  and 


COURTSHIP      IN      THE      KITCHEN.          189 

ana  much  ''bliged  by  de  'quiry,"  replied  'Dolf,  with  a  bow 
so  profound  that  it  seemed  by  a  miracle  he  recovered  his 
balancet  "  I'se  bery  glad  to  see  de  ole  place  again,  Miss 
Mellen,  and  de  faces  of  yerself  and  young  Miss  Elsie  is  like 
de  sunshine  to  me." 

"  Bless  me,  Dolf,"  cried  Elsie,  "  that's  poetry." 

Dolf  gave  a  deprecatory  wave  of  the  hand,  as  if  the 
poetry  had  been  unavoidable,  and  a  smile  which  insinuated 
that  he  was  capable  of  still  higher  flights  of  fancy,  as  he 
said  : 

"  Mebbe,  mebbe,  Miss  Elsie — I  didn't  reserve  partic'lar 
— dese  tings  takes  a  pusson  onavvares  mostly." 

"  Now,  Dolf/'  said  his  master,  "  try  and  put  my  things 
in  some  sort  of  order  before  the  day  is  over." 

"  Yes,  marster ;  ebery  ting  dat's  wanting  shall  be  top- 
permost." 

Elsie  laughed  unrestrainedly,  but  Dolf  only  took  that 
as  a  compliment,  and  was  immensely  satisfied  with  the 
impression  he  had  produced. 

"  Don't  get  up  another  flirtation  with  the  cook,"  she 
said;  "she  is  old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  so  old  that 
she's  growing  rich  with  hoarding,  Dolf." 

Dolf  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room  with  much  cere 
mony,  and  took  his  way  straight  towards  the  lower 
regions.  His  brain  had  always  formed  numerous  pro 
jects  on  the  strength  of  Clorinda's  wealth,  and  he  felt 
it  incumbent  upon  him  to  have  an  interview  as  soon  as 
possible  with  this  elderly  heiress. 

He  came  upon  her  in  the  kitchen  hall ;  she  was  walking 
upright  as  a  ramrod  with  a  large  tin  dish-pan  in  her  hands, 
and  looking  forbidding  as  if  she  had  been  the  eldest  daugh 
ter  of  Erebus. 

"Dat's  de  time  o'  day,"  thought  Dolf;  "she  is  par- 
simmony  just  now  and  no  mistake,  but  here  goes  for  do 
power  of  'suasion." 


190          COURTSHIP      IN      THE      KITCHEN. 

He  made  her  a  bow  which  flattered  the  sable  spinster 
into  a  broad  smile,  and  almost  made  her  drop  the  dish- 
pan,  in  the  flutter  of  her  delight. 

"  Dolf,  Dolf,  am  dat  you  ? "  she  exclaimed,  growing  a 
shade  darker. 

"Permit  me,"  said  Dolf,  gracefully,  taking  the  pan 
from  her  hand  ;  "  it's  my  expressive  delight  to  serve  de 
fair,  and  I'se  most  happy,  through  dis  instrumentation, 
to  renew  your  honorable  acquaintance." 

He  followed  this  up  with  another  tremendous  bow ; 
Clorinda  thought  it  quite  time  that  she  should  make  a 
show  of  high  breeding  likewise.  She  gave  her  body  a 
bend  and  a  duck,  but  unfortunately,  Dolf  was  bowing  at 
the  same  moment,  and  their  heads  met  with  a  loud  con 
cussion. 

A  wild  giggle  from  the  kitchen  door  completed  Dolf's 
confusion.  He  looked  that  way,  and  there  stood  Victoria, 
the  chambermaid,  now  a  spruce  mulatto  of  eighteen, 
enjoying  Clorinda's  discomfiture. 

"  De  fault  was  mine,"  cried  Dolf,  in  his  gallantry  ;  "  all 
mine,  so  dat  imperent  yaller  gal  need'n  larf  herself  quite  to 
death." 

"  Imperent  yaller  gal  ?  am  no  more  yaller  den  yer  is/' 
answered  Vic. 

"  Any  how  yer  needn't  stand  dar  a  grinning  like  a 
monkey,  Vic,"  exclaimed  Clorinda,  in  wrath. 

"  Accidents  will  recur,"  said  Dolf.  "  But,  laws,  Miss 
Victory,  is  dat  you  ?  I  had  de  pleasure  of  yer  'quaint- 
ance  afore  me  and  marster  started  on  our  trabels." 

"  I've  been  alone  here  eber  since,"  explained  Victoria, 
not  proof  against  his  fascinations.  "  I'm  sure  yer  haiiit 
altered  a  bit,  Mr.  Dolf." 

"  I  guess  if  yer  don't  go  upstairs  miss'll  know  why," 
cried  Clorinda,  sharply.  "  Jes  give  me  dat  pan,  Mr. 
Dolf;  I  kint  wait  all  day  for  you  to  empt}  it." 


THE      DEAD      SECRET.  191 

Dolf  was  recalled  to  wisdom  at  once  —  he  could  not 
afford  to  make  a  misstep  on  the  very  day  of  his  return. 
He  emptied  the  pan,  followed  Clorinda  into  the  kitchen, 
making  a  sign  of  fareWell  to  Vic  which  the  old  maid  did 
not  observe.  Once  in  Clorinda's  own  dominion,  the  darkey 
so  improved  the  impression  already  produced  that  he  was 
soon  discussing  a  delicate  luncheon  with  great  relish,  and 
so  disturbing  Clorinda's  equanimity  by  his  compliments,  that 
she  greatly  endangered  the  pie-crust  she  was  industriously 
rolling  out  on  one  end  of  the  table  where  he  sat. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE       DEAD        SECRET. 

THE  morning  after  Elsie's  return  Grautley  Mellen  mount 
ed  his  horse,  and  rode  off  towards  the  shore  tavern,  a  sad 
and  heavy-hearted  man.  The  woman  whom  he  had  loved 
so  devotedly  with  the  first  passion  of  his  youth,  lay  in  that 
little  chamber  waiting  for  burial.  Where  destined  when 
she  met  her  fate,  or  how  much  she  suffered,  he  could  only 
guess.  But  there  she  was,  after  years  of  separation,  thrown 
upon  his  charity  even  for  a  grave,  with  no  one  to  mourn  her 
death,  no  one  to  care  how  or  where  she  was  buried.  He  had 
not  mentioned  her  to  his  wife  or  sister,  an  aching  memory 
at  heart  forbade  that,  but  underneath  the  joy  of  his  return 
home  lay  this  dead  secret,  haunting  him  with  funereal 
shadows. 

The  woman  was  in  her  coffin  when  he  entered  the  little 
chamber,  which  was  now  so  desolately  clean  ;  for  he  had 
given  orders  regarding  her  interment  before  leaving  the 
house  that  stormy  night,  and  they  had  been  well  obeyed. 
A  veil  of  delicate  gauze  covered  the  face,  softening  it  into 


192  THE      DEAD      SECRET. 

singular  loveliness.  Mellen  did  not  lift  this  veil,  which 
neutralised  the  coldness  of  death  so  beautifully,  but  his 
breast  heaved  with  a  farewell  sigh,  while  tears  blinded  his 
last  look,  which  carried  deep  and  eternal  forgiveness  with  it. 
A  noise  in  the  next  room  disturbed  him.  He  turned 
hastily,  and  went  down  stairs,  shrinking  from  observation. 
Scarcely  had  Mellen  disappeared  when  the  door  which 
connected  the  death  chamber  with  a  small  inner  room  was 
pushed  open,  and  a  pale,  wild  face  looked  in.  It  was  that 
of  North  ;  after  a  quick  survey  of  the  room,  he  darted  to 
wards  the  door  leading  to  the  stairs  and  shot  the  bolt. 
Then  he  went  up  to  the  coffin,  flung  back  the  gauze  from 
that  marble  face,  and  looked  down  upon  it.  Those  black 
eyes  burned  too  hotly  for  tears,  but  the  raven  beard  trem 
bled  about  his  mouth,  his  hand  was  clenched,  the  burning 
consciousness  of  a  great  crime  was  upon  him,  and  he  felt  it 
in  every  nerve  and  pulse  of  his  system.  If  North  had  ever 
loved  this  woman,  all  the  force  of  that  passion  came  back 
upon  his  soul  now  in  an  agony  of  remorse.  As  he  gazed, 
his  hand  released  its  iron  grip,  his  strong  limbs  shook  like 
reeds,  and  flinging  himself  down  by  the  coffin  he  cursed 
himself,  his  crime,  and  that  living  woman  for  whose  sake  it 
had  been  committed. 

They  were  coming  upstairs.  He  heard  the  heavy  blun 
dering  footsteps  of  two  men,  and  knew  what  they  were  after. 
Creeping  softly  to  the  door  he  drew  the  bolt  back  with 
intense  caution,  and  stealing  into  the  little  chamber,  fell 
upon  the  floor  and  held  his  breath,  listening. 

He  heard  the  coffin-lid  closed  ;  the  slow  turning  of  the 
screws  ;  a  sudden  jar,  and  then  the  footsteps  again,  broken 
and  disturbed  by  the  mournful  burden  those  two  men  car 
ried.  Then  all  was  still  for  a  moment,  and  up  through  the 
passage,  vibrating  like  electricity  through  that  evil  soul, 
came  the  sound  of  a  clear,  solemn  voice,  reading  the 
burial  service. 


THE      DEAD      SECRET.  193 

Still  he  listened,  with  his  head  lifted  from  the  floor,  and 
supporting  himself  by  one  arm  like  a  worn-out  gladiator. 
A  sort  of  terror  had  seized  upon  him  with  the  sweet  low 
sound  of  that  voice.  Great  drops  gathered  upon  his 
forehead  and  grew  cold  there.  He  was  like  an  evil 
spirit  looking  through  the  gates  of  Paradise.  Then 
came  another  pause,  followed  by  the  slow  roll  of  wheels 
and  the  tramp  of  horses.  North  leaped  to  his  feet,  and 
threw  up  the  window.  A  hearse  was  moving  heavily 
down  the  street,  and  close  behind  it  rode  Grantley  Mel- 
len,  alone. 

Near  the  Piney  Cove  mansion  was  an  ancient  bury  ing- 
ground,  with  the  graves  of  many  generations  crowded 
around  a  little  stone  church,  which  rose  up  in  solemn 
stillness  among  a  grove  of  cypress  trees  and  wild  cedars. 
In  one  of  the  sunniest  corners  of  the  ground  a  grave  was 
dug,  and  a  pile  of  blossoming  turf  was  laid  ready  to  cover 
that  hapless  woman  in  her  place  of  rest.  While  the  men 
performed  their  sad  work,  Mellen  stood  by,  with  his  head 
bared  reverentially,  and  the  heart  in  his  bosom  standing 
still.  When  he  turned  away  it  was  with  a  deep,  solemn 
sigh  of  relief.  The  bitterness  and  the  pain  of  his  first 
love  was  buried  forever.  Henceforth  Elizabeth  would  have 
no  rival,  even  in  his  memory. 

Mellen  went  home  a  calmer  and  a  better  man,  after 
laying  his  lost  one  down  in  her  grave.  Hitherto  her 
memory  had  been  an  aching  bitterness,  but  with  death 
came  forgiveness,  and  out  of  that  his  spirit  arose  chastened, 
gentle  and  tending  towards  a  healthy  cheerfulness. 

Elizabeth  was  too  deeply  observant  not  to  remark  the 
softened  seriousness  of  her  husband's  manner  when  he 
came  home  that  day,  but  every  look  of  tenderness  that  he 
gave  her  was  a  pang,  and  smote  her  worse  than  reproaches. 
Could  the  wife  who  deceived  her  husband  find  joy  in  the 
confidence  which  was  but  a  mockery  of  her  deceit.  Many 
12 


194 

times  during    those  few  days   Elizabeth  wished   that   her 
husband  would  be  harsh  and  cruel  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
TOM  FULLER'S  LETTER. 

As  they  were  sitting  at  dinner  the  next  day,  Mellen 
inquir  d  about  Fuller. 

"  I  have  quite  forgotten  to  ask  you  about  Tom,"  he 
Baid ;  "  he  was  in  France  when  you  last  wrote  to  me." 

"He  has  not  come  yet,"  Elizabeth  replied;  "the  house 
in  which  he  was  employed,  concluded  to  keep  him  at  Bor 
deaux  for  a  time  ;  in  his  last  letter  he  wrote  that  he  might 
be  gone  another  year." 

"Poor  old  Tom,"  Elsie  said,  laughingly. 

Elizabeth's  brows  contracted  a  little ;  she  had  never 
been  able  entirely  to  forget  the  suffering  this  girl  had 
caused  the  young  man.  Whenever  she  heard  her  mention 
his  name  in  that  trifling  way,  it  jarred  upon  her  feelings 
and  irritated  her  greatly. 

"  Bessie  doesn't  like  any  one  to  laugh  at  Tom,"  said 
Mellen,  noticing  the  expression  of  her  face. 

"  I  confess  I  do  not,"  she  replied ;  "  he  is  such  a  noble 
fellow  at  the  bottom,  with  an  honest,  kindly  heart,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  no  one  really  acquainted  with  Tom  can 
help  respecting  him,  in  spite  of  his  eccentricities." 

"But  you  need  not  be  so  heroic,  Bessie,"  returned 
Elsie  ;  "Tom  always  allowed  me  to  laugh  at  him  as  much 
as  I  pleased ;  you  krtow  I  don't  mean  to  be  ill-natured." 

"No  one  would  ever  suspect  you  of  that,  Birdie,"  added 
Mellen,  with  a  fond  glance. 

Elizabeth    said    nothing    more,    and    the    conversation 


195 

"We  shall  have  the  house  crowded  with  visitors,  I  sup 
pose,"  Elsie  said  ;  "  Mary  Harrington  told  me  she  should 
only  give  us  one  day  for  family  affection — " 

"  I  hope  she  won't  come  to  stay  any  time  just  yet,"  said 
Elizabeth. 

"  I  hope  so,  too,"  added  Mellen  ;  "  I  should  like  a  little 
enjoyment  of  my  home,  if  possible,  for  a  week  or  two  at 
least." 

"  But  people  will  come,"  said  Elsie ;  "  you  must  expect 
it.  They  look  for  all  sorts  of  invitations,  and  you  must 
give  them  or  mortally  offend  everybody." 

Perhaps  the  idea  of  the  gayety  that  would  ensue  was  not 
unpleasant  to  Elsie,  in  spite  of  her  joy  at  Mellen's  return  ; 
it  was  quite  natural  at  her  age,  and  to  her  character,  which 
drooped  in  solitude  like  a  flower  deprived  of  the  sun. 

"Oh,"  said  Mellen,  "we  will  give  them  as  many  din 
ners  and  parties  as  they  like,  provided  they  won't  domicile 
themselves  with  us,  Elizabeth." 

"Yes;  I  don't  mind  that  so  much." 

"  Shall  you  take  a  house  in  town,  Grant  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  Do  you  particularly  wish  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  pleasant,  of  course." 

"  Just  as  you  and  Elizabeth  choose,"  he  said. 

"  For  my  part  I  would  rather  stay  here,"  exclaimed 
Elizabeth. 

"  And  so  would  I,"  said  Mellen. 

Elsie  looked  a  little  disappointed,  but  she  concealed  the 
feeling  with  her  usual  quickness. 

"  I  have  not  told  you  what  Doctor  Peters  said,"  she 
continued. 

"  What  ?  "  her  brother  asked,  anxious  at  once. 

"  He  thinks  the  sea  air  too  strong  for  me  in  the  winter ; 
but,  I  dare  say,  it  is  only  his  fane}7 ;  I  would  not  have 
either  you  or  Elizabeth  disturbed  on  my  account." 

"  My  dear  child,"  cried  Mellen,  "  that  settles  the  matter 


196      TOM  FULLER'S  LETTER. 

at  once  ;  we  will  certainly  go  away  from  here  before  the  cold 
weather  comes ;  any  where  you  like ;  Bessie  will  gladly  give 
up  Piney  Cove,  I'm  sure." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  wife,  quietly. 

Elsie  looked  triumphant ;  she  was  always  elated  at  having 
her  own  way,  whether  the  thing  was  of  importance  or  not. 

"We  need  not  think  about  it  now,"  she  said,  demurely; 
"  it  will  be  warm  and  pleasanfc  for  several  weeks  yet." 

"  But  you  must  be  careful,"  returned  Mellen,  "  dear 
child ;  I  cannot  reach  home  safely  only  to  see  your  health 
give  way." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Grant,  don't  begin  to  fidget !  I  am  ever 
so  well ;  make  him  believe  it,  Bessie." 

"  I  think  so/'  Bessie  replied;  "you  are  stronger  than  you 
look." 

"  Elsie  requires  great  care,"  said  Mellen,  decidedly. 

Elsie  did  not  look  displeased;  she  liked  being  considered 
weak  and  delicate  ;  it  made  her  more  petted  and  at  liberty 
to  indulge  her  numberless  caprices  in  the  most  interesting 
manner. 

The  family  had  that  evening  entirely  to  themselves,  and 
it  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  Elizabeth  and  Elsie  joined 
in  the  old  songs  Mellen  loved,  and  they  all  talked  and 
laughed  gaily,  forgetful  of  the  clouds  that  lowered  above 
that  house. 

The  next  morning  when  the  family  met  in  the  breakfast- 
room  the  post  had  arrived,  and  Dolf  presented  Elsie  and 
Elizabeth  with  several  letters;  only  the  journals  were  left 
for  Mellen,  and  he  said,  laughingly  : 

"  The  division  is  not  just — Bessie  having  two  letters  ; 
you  might  give  me  one." 

"  I'm  too  selfish,"  she  answered. 

"  Mine  is  from  Mary  Harrington,"  observed  Elsie. 
"  Bess,  you  shall  not  read  yours  till  you  have  given  us  our 
coffee.  I'll  just  see  what  the  \viJu\v  says." 


TOM  FULLER'S  LETTER.      197 

Elizabeth  poured  out  the  coffee  while  Elsie  opened  her 
note. 

"  She  is  coming  to-day,"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  I  told  you  so. 
She  sends  all  sorts  of  messages  to  you,  Grant  j  calls  you  a 
god-like,  wonderful  creature,  and  is  dying  to  see  you." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mellen. 

"  She  asks  after  Mr.  Rhodes,  Bessie — poor  old  fellow — she 
has  quite  turned  his  head." 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Mellen. 

So  Elsie  explained  how  the  widow  delighted  in  worrying 
Miss  Jemima,  had  made  desperate  love  to  the  stout  man  on 
every  occasion;  and  in  laughing  at  her  quaint  speeches 
Elizabeth  quite  forgot  her  own  epistles. 

"  Why,  where  are  your  letters  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  I  forgot  them,"  returned  Elizabeth,  drawing  them  from 
under  her  plate,  and  adding  as  she  glanced  at  the  super 
scription  of  the  upper  one,  "  it  is  only  from  the  dress 
maker." 

Elsie  snatched  the  other,  and  cried  out : 

"Why,  this  is  from  Tom  Fuller ;  oh,  see  what  it  says." 

"  From  Tom  ?  oh,  I  am  so  glad  ;  I  have  been  expecting  a 
letter  for  a  week  past." 

Elizabeth  took  the  letter,  and  her  face  lighted  up  joyous 
ly  as  she  broke  the  seal  and  began  to  read. 

"  Well,"  said  Elsie,  impatiently,  "  what  does  he  say  ? 
read  it  out." 

Elizabeth  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  you  provoking  creature,"  cried  Elsie,  "  do  tell  us 
what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Tom  must  have  found  a  diamond  mine,"  said  Mellen. 

"  He  has,"  returned  Elizabeth. 

"  Bless  me,"  said  Elsie,  "  will  he  go  about  covered  with 
diamonds  ?  " 

"  His  old  uncle  has  left  him  a  fortune,"  explained  Eliza 
beth. 


198  TOM    FULLER'S    LETTER. 

Elsie  fairly  screamed,  and  clapped  her  little  hands  with 
graceful  fury. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it !  Only  fancy  Tom  Fuller 
rich  !  Why  he'll  be  robbed  every  day  of  his  life." 

"  How  much  is  it  ?  "  asked  Mellen.  "  I  am  very  glad. 
Tom  is  a  good  fellow  and  deserves  it." 

He  had  entirely  got  over  any  suspicion  that  Elizabeth 
might  ever  have  cared  for  her  cousin,  and  was  prepared  to 
rejoice  in  Tom's  good  fortune. 

"  How  much — how  much  ?  "  broke  in  Elsie. 

"  Thirty  thousand  a  year,"  replied  Elizabeth  ;  "  Tom  is 
in  a  state  of  bewilderment  that  makes  his  letter  sadly 
incoherent ;  he  never  expected  a  penny  ;  his  uncle  changed 
his  will  at  the  last  moment." 

"  But  wasn't  he  your  uncle,  too  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"No;  he  was  aunt  Fuller's  brother." 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  see  the  letter,"  said  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  gave  it  to  her,  but  between  excitement  and  his 
usual  odd  penmanship  Tom's  epistle  was  quite  a  puzzle  to 
unpractised  eyes,  and  Elsie  went  into  shrieks  over  it. 

"  He  promised  to  bring  me  a  bracelet,"  said  she, 
"  diamonds  it  shall  be  now.  If  he  brings  anything  less  I'll 
send  him  straight  back." 

"  But  when  is  he  coming  ?  "  Mellen  asked. 

"  I  can't  make  out,"  said  Elsie ;  "  here  is  something  at 
the  end  about  I  shall  burn — no  return — at  the — the — can 
that  be  Millennium  ?  " 

"  Scarcely,  I  should  think,"  said  Mellen,  laughingly. 

"  Try  and  make  it  out,  Bess,"  said  Elsie,  giving  her  the 
letter. 

Elizabeth  took  it,  examined  the  lines  to  which  she  pointed, 
and  after  a  moment's  study  read  it  correctly. 

"  I  shall  return  by  the  Hammonia." 

"Why  that's  due  now,"  said  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  glanced  at  the  date. 


THE      WIDOW'S      FASCINATIONS.  199 

"The  letter  has  been  delayed,"  she  said;  "he  may  be 
here  already." 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  beautiful  to  see  him,"  said  Elsie ;  "  why, 
he  will  give  all  he  is  worth  to  the  person  that  asks  first. 
Won't  it  be  fun  !  " 

"  You  shall  not  tease  him,  Elsie,  as  you  formerly  did," 
said  Elizabeth  ;  "  I  will  not  have  it." 

"  But  I  will,"  said  Elsie.  "  Thirty  thousand  a  year ! 
Good  gracious,  it  will  seem  as  if  he  had  fallen  from  the 
moon.  Of  course  I'll  tease  him  half  to  death." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    WIDOW'S    FASCINATIONS. 

ABOUT  midday  Mrs.  Harrington  arrived  with  a  little 
party  of  friends  ;  she  would  not  allow  Mellen  to  escape  her 
till  she  had  overwhelmed  him  with  compliments  and  con 
gratulations,  all  of  which  he  received  with  becoming  resig 
nation.  When  they  went  upstairs  she  said  to  Elsie  : 

"  I  haven't  seen  anything  of  that  mysterious  creature, 
North,  in  an  age  ;  what  can  have  become  of  him  ?  " 

"  Horrid  creature,"  cried  Elsie,  "  don't  mention  his  name  ! 
Now,  Mary  Harrington,  don't  forget  for  once  in  your  life  ! 
If  Grant  knew  that  we  had  even  one  visit  from  a  stranger 
he  would  be  furious  ;  if  you  let  it  out  neither  Elizabeth  or 
I  will  ever  speak  to  you  again." 

"  My  dear,  I  won't  open  my  lips." 

"  Mind  you  don't,  that's  all ;  if  you  do,  I'll  be  even  with 
you,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Elsie." 

"  You  need  not  be  so  ferocious." 

"  Oh.  I  hate  to  be  scolded,  and  Grant  would  be  dreadfully 
angry  !  I  promised  Bessie  I  would  warn  you,  so  be  sure 
and  remember." 


200  THE      WIDOW'S      FASCINATIONS. 

"  I'll  swear  it  if  you  like." 

"  Bless  me,  don't  be  tragic  !  The  matter  is  of  no  conse 
quence  to  me,  only  Bess  makes  such  a  point  of  it ;  besides 
that,  I  dread  to  see  Grant  angry." 

"  He  never  could  be  angry  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Harring 
ton. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  just  as  bad  if  he  scolded  her." 

"How  good  you  are!"  cried  the  widow.  "You  are  just 
the  dearest  thing  in  the  world." 

"  Of  course  I  am  ;  but  there's  no  use  in  standing  here  to 
say  pretty  things  to  each  other,  for  there  is  no  one  to  hear." 

"  Oh,  you  odd  creature ! "  laughed  Mrs.  Harrington. 
"  But,  really,  that  man  was  the  strangest,  fascinating 
person — " 

"  There  you  go  !  "  interrupted  Elsie  angrily. 

"My  doar,  there  is  no  one  in  the  room  but  ourselves." 

"  I  don't  care  if  there  is  not ;  I  don't  want  to  hear  that 
man's  name." 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  dislike  him  so,"  pursued  the  widow. 
"  It  always  seemed  to  me  that  he  and  Elizabeth  treated 
each  other  oddly — " 

Elsie  interrupted  her.  quite  pale  with  anger. 

"  Mary  Harrington,"  said  she,  "  if  you  and  I  are  to 
remain  friends,  stop  this  instant.  I  won't  hear  another 
word,  nor  must  the  subject  come  up  again." 

Mrs.  Harrington  was  quite  subdued  by  her  friend's  vehe 
mence,  and  dropped  the  matter  without  another  allusion  to 
the  forbidden  subject. 

When  they  went  downstairs  after  the  rest  of  the  party 
wexe  assembled,  Mellen  began  laughing  at  the  widow  about 
the  conquest  she  had  made  of  Mr.  Rhodes. 

"  Isn't  it  delicious  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  just  want  you  to  see 
us  together — it  is  better  than  a  play." 

"  And  Jemima's  spite  is  something  to  witness,"  added 
Elsie.  "  I  know  she  will  poison  you  yet,  Mary  Harrington." 


THE      WIDOW'S      FASCINATIONS.  201 

"I  am  on  the  watch  constantly,"  replied  the  widow. 
"  I  don't  even  engage  a  strange  servant  now  for  fear  it 
should  be  one  of  the  old  maid's  secret  emissaries." 

"  You  are  as  badly  off  as  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,"  said 
Mellen,  laughing  at  Mrs.  Harrington's  pretended  distress. 

"It  is  dreadful,  I  assure  you,"  she  said,  shaking  her 
plumage  of  lace  and  gauze ;  but  it  is  very  amusing,  never 
theless." 

"Of  course,  if  you  can  annoy  somebody,"  answered 
Mellen  ;  "  that  is  the  very  acme  of  female  happiness." 

"  Oh,  you  barbarous  creature ! "  cried  the  widow. 
<l  Ain't  you  ashamed  to  utter  such  atrocious  sentiments  ! 
Mrs.  Mellen,  your  husband  has  come  back  a  perfect  savage." 

Everybody  laughed — it  never  occurred  to  the  widow  it 
could  be  at  her  own  airs  and  affectations,  which  were  a  very 
clumsy  imitation  of  Elsie's  childish  grace ;  she  was  too 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  her  own  powers  of  fascination  to 
suppose  it  possible,  even  for  an  instant,  that  she  could  be 
come  a  subject  of  amusement. 

"  After  all,  it  is  tiresome  to  inspire  a  grande  passion" 
said  she,  with  a  theatrical  drawl. 

"  No  woman  ought  to  be  better  able  to  decide,"  cried 
Elsie  ;  "you  have  made  enough  in  all  conscience." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ! "  said  the  widow. 

"  Don't  deny  it,"  said  Elsie,  who  never  scrupled  to  make 
sport  of  her  most  intimate  friends,  and  with  all  her  fond 
ness  for  Mrs.  Harrington  was  always  leading  her  on  to  do 
and  say  the  most  absurd  things. 

Elsie  was  in  the  most  extravagant  spirits,  and  had  been 
ever  since  her  brother's  return.  She  flitted  about  the 
house  like  a  beautiful  elf,  and  Elizabeth  could  see  that 
Mellen  watched  her  every  movement,  his  face  kindling 
with  affection  and  each  look  a  caress. 

"  He  has  not  changed,"  she  thought,  sadly ;  "  all  his 
tender  words  to  me  came  only  from  the  first  pleasure  of 
finding  himself  at  home." 


202  THE      WIDOW'S      FASCINATIONS. 

Then  she  began  to  shudder,  as  she  often  did  now 
when  the  icy  chill  of  some  stern  thought  crept  over  her. 

"Better  so/'  she  muttered;  "what  should  I  do  with 
love  and  affection — what  right  have  I  to  expect  them 
from  him  or  any  one  on  earth.  Is  not  my  whole  life  a  lie." 

But  she  banished  these  reflections  quickly,  determined  to 
have  at  least  a  few  days  of  perfect  freedom  from  anxieties, 
a  little  season  of  peace  and  rest,  in  which  her  tired  soul 
might  restore  its  strength,  like  a  seabird  reposing  on  the 
sunlit  bosom  of  some  inland  lake  after  the  exhaustion  of  a 
long  and  perilous  flight  amid  storms  and  tempests. 

Mellen,  too,  had  laid  by  the  suspicions  which  the  strange 
circumstances  connected  with  his  return  had  caused,  and 
appeared,  as  he  could  always,  when  so  disposed,  the  most 
charming  host  possible. 

Elizabeth  sunned  her  heart  in  the  smile  which  lighted  up 
his  face  whenever  their  eyes  met,  and  kept  the  dark  shadows 
resolutely  aloof  from  her  mind.  She  was  determined  to  be 
happy  in  spite  of  fate. 

"  Peace  and  rest !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  need  them  so 
much.  I  will  have  them  at  any  cost." 

The  day  passed  as  such  days  usually  do,  when  all  parties 
are  amused ;  and  though  the  conversation  might  not  have 
been  such  as  altogether  suited  the  intellectual  tastes  of 
Mellen  and  his  wife,  they  were  too  well-bred  for  any  ex 
pression  of  distaste,  and  Elsie  made  even  nonsense  charm 
ing  by  her  brilliant  sallies  and  buoyant  spirits. 

The  widow  had  not  forgotten  her  old  ambition  to  fascinate 
Mellen,  and  her  efforts  were  highly  amusing  to  the  lookers- 
on.  She  was  in  doubt  whether  he  preferred  the  queenly 
manner  and  repose  of  Elizabeth  ^r  the  arch  grace  and  ex 
uberant  gayety  of  his  sister,  and  attempted  airs  which  she 
considered  a  happy  medium  between  the  two,  and  a  most 
fortunate  result  followed.  Her  efforts  to  support  the  double 
character  delighted  Elsie  immensely,  who,  with  the  usual 


THE      HEIR      COMES      HOME.  203 

good-nature  of  intimate  friends,  made  as  much  sport  of  her 
before  her  very  face  as  she  dared  to  venture  on  in  Mellen's 
presence. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE    HEIR     COMES     HOME. 

THEY  were  all  assembled  in  the  library  before  dinner, 
tired  with  laughing  and  roaming  about,  tired  of  rowing  over 
the  sunny  waters,  and  glad  to  rest  a  little  before  the  im 
portant  business  of  dining  should  commence. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  bustle  in  the  hall,  followed  by  a  loud 
good-natured  voice  that  made  Elizabeth  start  to  her  feet. 

"  It's  my  cousin  Tom/'  she  cried.  "  Grantley,  Tom  Ful 
ler  has  come." 

She  rushed  into  the  hall,  and  sure  enough,  there  stood 
her  cousin  ;  sunburned,  a  little  thin  from  sea-sickness,  but 
the  same  droll  old  Tom  as  ever. 

He  caught  Elizabeth  in  his  arms  and  uttered  his  first 
incoherent  expressions  of  delight  when  Mellen  came  up, 
and  Tom  commenced  shaking  his  two  hands  with  immense 
energy,  as  if  they  had  been  pump  handles,  and  nothing  but 
the  greatest  exertion  on  his  part  could  save  the  ship. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  ! "  he  cried.  "  I'm  so  glad  to 
get  back.  I  declare  I  can't  say  a  word." 

"  And  I'm  glad  ;  very,  very  glad,"  replied  Elizabeth. 

"  And  we  congratulate  you  heartily  on  your  new  for 
tune,"  said  the  widow,  joining  in  and  extending  both 
hands. 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  it,"  cried  Tom  ;  "  it's  no  end  of  a 
bother  to  me  already.  God  bless  you,  I  don't  know  what  to 
do  with  it !  How — how  is  your  sister  ?  "  he  stammered, 
addressing  Melleu  with  desperate  energy  ;  for  Elsie's  name 
came  up  from  his  heart  with  a  jerk. 


204  THE      HEIR      COMES      HOME. 

"She  is  quite  well,"  Mellen  answered,  "and  will  be 
charmed  to  see  you  j  we  were  expecting  you." 

"  That's  nice  of  you.  So  you've  only  just  got  back  ! 
Well,  it's  good  to  get  home,  isn't  it  ?  that  is,  if  I  had  any 
home — but  it's  dreary  for  a  solitary  chap  like  me,  now  isn't 
it?" 

"  This  house  will  always  seem  like  home  to  you,  I  hope," 
said  Mellen,  kindly. 

"Always,"  added  Elizabeth  ;  " don't  forget  that,  Tom." 

"  You're  too  good  to  me,"  cried  the  soft-hearted  fellow  j 
"  you  always  were  ! " 

"  Of  course  they  were,"  said  a  laughing  voice,  that  made 
Tom  start,  and  appeared  to  take  every  particle  of  strength 
out  of  his  limbs. 

Elsie  suddenly  appeared  before  Tom  in  her  brilliant  eve 
ning  dress  and  cloud-like  loveliness,  reducing  him  to  a  piti 
able  state  at  once. 

"  Don't  you  intend  to  speak  to  me  ?  "  pursued  Elsie. 

"  Of— of  course  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
— will  you  shake  hands — will  you — be — be  glad  to  see 
me?" 

"  There  is  my  hand,"  replied  Elsie ;  "  the  pleasure  de 
pends  on  how  agreeable  you  make  yourself.  I  suppose  you 
have  come  back  with  such  fine  foreign  manners  that  you 
will  hardly  deign  to  notice  us  poor  plain  untravelled  people." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  think  that ! "  said  Tom.  "  You  are 
laughing  at  me  just  as  usual." 

"  Did  you  bring  me  my  bracelet  ?  "  demanded  Elsie. 

"  Indeed  I  did  ;  I'd  have  brought  all  Paris  if  I  had 
thought  it  would  please  you." 

Elizabeth  now  plainly  thought  poor  Tom  had  returned 
no  wiser  than  when  he  went  away ;  but  Mellen,  man-like, 
never  perceived  the  state  in  which  Elsie's  fascinations  had 
thrown  the  honest  fellow,  and  would  not  have  thought 
seriously  of  the  matter  if  he  had. 


THE      HEIR      COMES      HOME.  205 

"  Of  course  you  speak  French  like  a  native — Iroquois,  I 
mean,"  pursued  the  pitiless  Elsie. 

"  Just  about,"  replied  Tom,  as  ready  as  ever  to  laugh  at 
his  own  blunders. 

"  So  you  did  not  forget  the  bracelet  ?  "  urged  Elsie. 

"  Indeed  I  did  not ;  it's  in  my  carpet-bag." 

"  Then  I  will  be  good  natured  to  you  all  the  evening," 
said  she,  "  and  won't  tease  you  the  least  mite." 

Tom  was  quite  in  ecstasies  at  the  prospect ;  but  Mellen 
said  : 

"She  can't  keep  her  promise,  no  matter  how  hard  she 
tries — don't  trust  her,  Fuller." 

Elsie  made  a  gesture  of  playful  menace  and  carried  Tom 
off  into  the  drawing-room,  quite  regardless  of  the  fuct  that 
Elizabeth  had,  as  yet,  found  hardly  an  opportunity  of 
speaking  to  him. 

Mrs.  Harrington  was  excessively  cordial  to  the  new 
comer  ;  as  a  poor  man  she  had  always  liked  Tom  for  his 
extreme  good-nature  and  willingness  to  wait  on  her  caprices 
to  any  extent;  but  now  that  he  made  his  appearance  in  the 
character  of  a  semi-millionaire,  it  was  perfectly  natural  that 
she  should  look  upon  him  in  a  totally  different  light,  being 
of  the  world,  worldly. 

Tom's  awkwardness  would  only  be  a  pleasant  eccentricity 
now  ;  his  unfortunate  taste  in  dress  must  pass  readily  as 
the  carelessness  of  wealth,  and  all  his  good  qualities,  which 
had  been  quite  overshadowed  during  his  days  of  poverty, 
would  now  be  brought  to  the  foreground  with  glowing  tints. 

Not  that  Tom  ever  thought  of  this  result  to  his  heirship, 
he  was  too  unsuspicious  even  for  a  thought  of  the  kind. 
When  people  bestowed  more  interest  on  him  than  before, 
he  would  only  wonder  at  their  kindness  and  think  what  a 
pleasant  world  this  was  after  all,  and  what  scores  of  good- 
natured  people  there  were  in  it,  despite  of  the  grumblers 
and  misanthropes. 


206  THE      GAUNTLET      BRACELETS. 

Elsie  kept  her  word  ;  she  did  not  tease  Torn  in  the  least, 
but  deliberately  bewildered  him  with  her  arts  and  coquetry 
— which  set  Elizabeth  to  wondering  what  her  motive  could 
be — but  perhaps  she  had  none  at  all,  and  was  only  obeying 
the  whim  of  the  moment. 

Tom  produced  the  gold  humming-bird  for  Elsie's  hair, 
and  a  lovely  little  ornament  it  was,  with  the  gorget  in  its 
throat  composed  of  emeralds  and  rubies,  ancl  the  long, 
slender  bill  and  delicate  wings  formed  of  the  most  beauti 
ful  enamel. 

Elsie  perched  it  among  her  curls  and  was  happy  as  a 
child  with  her  new  toy.  Nobody  in  the  world  was  ever  so 
much  delighted  with  novel  ornaments,  and  few  persons  ever 
allowed  the  gloss  to  wear  off  them  so  quickly.  In  all 
probability  she  would  rave  over  Tom's  gift  for  a  week,  and 
by  that  time,  if  she  did  not  lose  it,  would  break  the  wings, 
by  way  of  amusement,  or  tear  the  bill  off  to  make  the 
point  of  a  stiletto,  or  ruin  it  in  some  other  way,  just  to 
gratify  her  caprice,  and  an  odd  love  of  destruction  which 
was  in  her  very  nature. 

Tom  Fuller  spent  the  first  happy  evening  he  had  known 
for  months  at  Piney  Cove,  and  he  was  so  deliciously  good- 
natured  and  noisy  in  his  pleasure,  that  he  could  have  sup 
plied  any  lack  of  merriment  on  the  part  of  the  other  guests 
if  it  had  been  necessary.  But  it  was  not. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE    GAUNTLET    BRACELETS. 


No  man  with  any  wisdom  whatever  thinks  of  returning 
from  a  journey  without  gladdening  all  the  feminine  hearts 
in  his  sphere  with  goodly  presents.  Mellen  had  by  no 


THE  GAUNTLET   BRACELETS.      207 

means  forgotten  his  duty  in  this  respect.  He  had  brought 
all  sorts  of  curious  Chinese  ornaments,  wonderful  pagodas 
for  glove  boxes,  scented  sandal  wood  repositories  for  laces, 
exquisitely  carved  ivory  boxes,  and  such  costly  trifles,  which 
kept  Elsie  in  perfect  shrieks  of  delight  during  the  first 
glow  of  possession.  He  had  also  brought  stores  of  valuable 
ornaments  which  had  once  belonged  to  wealthy  Mexican 
families,  their  value  increased  by  the  quaint,  old  time  set 
ting,  and  the  romance  connected  with  them  ;  and  Elsie  con 
sumed  hours  in  adorning  herself  with  them,  laughing  at 
her  own  fantastic  appearance,  and  dancing  about  like  a  reg 
ular  Queen  Mai). 

Among  these  presents  were  a  pair  of  very  valuable 
bracelets,  made  after  a  fashion  prevalent  in  Spain  two  hun 
dred  years  ago — you  may  see  such  things  even  now  preserved 
among  the  old  Castilian  grandees,  to  be  kept  through  all 
changes  of  time  and  fortune,  aired  on  festive  occasions  only, 
and  at  last,  if  parted  with  at  all,  left  in  a  fit  of  devotion 
before  some  Catholic  shrine,  as  a  bribe  for  some  Heavenly 
privilege. 

When  Louis  XIV.  was  a  youth  and  in  love  with  Marie 
Mencini,  he  once  offended  her  mortally  by  bestowing  a  sim 
ilar  bracelet  upon  a  young  stranger  at  the  court.  I  dare 
wager  it  required  a  whole  set  of  jewels  to  put  the  haughty 
Marie  in  good  humor  and  satisfy  her  Italian  cupidity. 

These  bracelets  Mellen  brought  with  him,  and  gave  one 
to  his  wife,  the  other  to  Elsie.  They  were  made  of  a 
gauntlet-shaped  piece  of  gold,  widening  at  the  back  of  tho 
wrist,  and  covered  with  delicate  chasing ;  the  gold  was  so 
fine  and  pure  that  they  were  supple  as  a  bit  of  kid.  A 
double  row  of  pearls  and  emeralds  ran  about  the  edge,  and 
the  clasps  were  of  large  diamonds,  arranged  in  the  shape  of 
a  shield. 

The  jewels  were  exceeding  valuable,  though  to  anybody 
possessing  the  least  fancy,  that  made  their  least  charm ; 


208  THE      GAUNTLET      BRACELETS. 

they  were  ornaments  that  had  undoubtedly  owned  a  history, 
arid  one  might  have  woven  a  thousand  romances  concerning 
the  lives  of  those  who  had  once  worn  them — that  is,  one 
who  is  not  ashamed  of  being  a  dreamer  in  this  rushing, 
practical  age. 

These  were  the  last  gifts  Mellen  displayed,  and  they  cer 
tainly  made  a  very  splendid  climax  to  the  costly  exhibition. 

As  I  said,  the  first  fortnight  passed  off  delightfully,  then 
the  visitors  departed,  and  there  were  a  few  days  of  quiet. 
The  Mellens  renewed  the  gayeties  then  by  giving  a  dinner 
party  to  several  families  in  the  neighborhood  to  whom  they 
owed  civil ity. 

"  They  are  stupid  people  to  be  sure,"  Elsie  observed, 
"  but  then  it's  a  little  change  from  our  own  special  dullness, 
and  we  have  been  alone  for  three  days." 

"  You  are  such  a  foolish  child  !  "  returned  Mellen. 

"Oh,  that's  all  very  well,"  laughed  Elsie;  "  but  I  don't 
wish  to  make,  a  female  Robinson  Crusoe  of  myself,  I  do 
assure  you.  Bessie,  old  Mrs.  Thompson  will  wear  that 
wonderful  new  head-dress,  and  her  son  will  ask  me  to  sing 
and  be  so  scarlet  and  fluttered  when  I  look  at  him.  Yes, 
yes,  there  is  some  fun  to  be  got  out  of  a  dinner-party." 

She  mimicked  the  expected  guests  in  turn,  and  did  it  so 
cleverly  that  her  companions  were  both  obliged  to  laugh,  so 
everybody  prepared  for  the  infliction  of  a  country  dinner  in 
the  best  possible  spirits.  It  was  rather  stupid  to  be  sure, 
but  Elsie  so  lighted  up  the  room  with  her  radiance,  and 
Elizabeth  was  so  pleasant  a  hostess  in  her  stately  beauty, 
that  everything  passed  off  tolerably,  and  even  the  most 
commonplace  of  the  party  brightened  up  a  little  under  the 
influence  of  their  hosts. 

The  ladies  had  risen  from  the  table,  giving  the  gentlemen 
an  opportunity  to  enjoy  their  cigars  in  comfort,  and  were 
passing  through  the  hall  towards  the  drawing-room. 

The  moon  shone  broad  and  full  through  the  windows  of 


THE      GAUNTLET      BRACELETS.  209 

the  hall,  and  somebody  remarked   on  the  beauty  of  the 
night.     Elsie  darted  away  and  flung  open  the  hall  door. 

"  You  will  get  cold  ;  don't  stand  there,"  said  Elizabeth. 

Elsie  danced  out  upon  the  portico  in  playful  defiance  of 
her  sister,  and  the  other  ladies  went  after  her,  expostulating 
with  true  feminine  eagerness. 

As  Elsie  ran  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  veranda  some 
thing  fell  upon  the  stones  with  a  ringing  noise,  followed  by 
a  little  shriek  which  she  uttered  in  starting  back. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  called  out  several  voices,  but 
before  they  reached  her  Elsie  stooped,  picked  something-  up 
and  ran  towards  them. 

"  I  dropped  my  brooch,"  she  said ;  "  come  in.  Eliza 
beth  was  right.  I  am  chilled  through  and  through." 

She  drove  them  playfully  before  her,  and  they  all  entered 
the  parlors  laughing  gayly — all  but  Elizabeth.  It  was  a 
trifling  thing  to  disturb  any  one,  and  her  nerves  must  have 
been  in  a  strange  state  from  constant  watchfulness  when 
this  little  event  could  move  her  so  greatly.  She  leaned 
against  the  door-frame  quite  cold  and  chill.  As  Elsie 
passed  her  the  girl  slipped  something  in  her  hand,  unper- 
ceived  by  the  others. 

Elizabeth  stood  motionless  until  they  had  all  gone,  then 
she  started  forward  with  something  like  desperation,  and 
moved  towards  the  hanging  lamp.  She  opened  her  hand 
and  looked  down  at  a  slip  of  paper  carefully  folded  about  a 
broken  bit  of  iron,  as  if  to  give  it  weight  enough  to  be 
thrown  with  sure  aim.  She  shut  her  hand  quickly  as  if 
the  sight  of  the  harmless  paper  filled  her  with  loathing, 
conquered  the  convulsion  which  shook  her  from  head  to 
foot,  unfolded  the  note  and  read  the  brief  lines  it  con 
tained. 

Then  she  tore  the  paper  into  fragments  and  thrust  them 
down  into  the  hall  fire,  watching  till  even  the  ashes  were 
gone,  fearful  that  a  trace  should  be  left. 
13 


210  THE      GAUNTLET      BRACELETS. 

"  I  must ! "  she  muttered,  "  I  must  go — "  I  must  not 
wait!"  She  looked  eagerly  about;  the  gay  laughter  of 
the  men  rang  up  from  the  dining-room ;  she  could  distin 
guish  her  husband's  voice  ;  through  the  closed  doors  of  the 
parlors  caime  the  sound  of  the  piano  and  a  birdlike  song, 
gleeful  and  joyous,  with  which  Elsie  was  amusing  the 
ladies. 

Elizabeth  flung  her  arms  aloft  with  sudden  passion. 

"  Laughing,  singing,  all  enjoying  themselves ! "  she 
moaned,  "  and  I  here  with  this  horrible  suffering !  I 
must  go — I  must  go  ! " 

Elizabeth  took  up  a  shawl  which  lay  on  a  chair,  opened 
the  outer  door  softly,  hurried  down  the  steps  and  disap 
peared  among  the  trees. 

Mr.  Mellen  did  not  give  his  male  guests  a  very  lengthy 
opportunity  to  enjoy  their  claret  and  cigars  ;  he  had  no 
interest  in  their  talk  about  the  political  affairs  of  the 
country,  a  recent  bankruptcy,  the  price  of  corn,  or  any  of 
the  topics  which  came  up,  and  some  time  before  it  might 
have  been  expected,  he  rose,  anxious  to  counteract  the  dull 
ness  by  the  presence  of  his  wife  and  sister,  both  of  whom 
he  had  regarded  all  the  evening  with  new  tenderness  and 
admiration,  as  they  sat  like  a  couple  of  rare  birds  among 
all  those  fussy,  ill-dressed  women.  Elsie  was  still  at  the 
piano  when  the  gentlemen  entered.  Mr.  Mellen  looked 
about  for  Elizabeth,  but  she  was  not  there. 

"  She  has  not  come  in  yet."  said  old  Mrs.  Thompson, 
in  answer  to  his  inquiry. 

Elsie  heard  the  words — she  had  ears  keen  as  a  little  beast 
of  prey. 

"  One  of  the  servants  stopped  her,"  she  called  out ; 
"  servants  always  are  stopping  her  —  mine  will  be  better 
regulated.  Come  here,  Grantley,  and  help  me  in  this  old 
song  you  like  so  much." 

"  In  a  moment,  dear,"  he  replied. 


THE   GAUNTLET   BRACELETS.      211 

Mellen  left  the  room,  fearing  that  Elizabeth  might  be 
drawn  away  by  a  headache.  He  had  never  felt  so  ten 
derly  solicitous  about  her.  These  last  weeks  of  sunshine 
had  made  his  proud  nature  kindly  genial.  He  was  anxious 
to  atone  for  all  his  old  suspicions  and  little  neglects  of  her 
comfort. 

He  was  crossing  the  hall,  when  the  outer  door  opened, 
and  Elizabeth  entered.  She  did  not  observe  him,  and  he 
saw  her  in  all  her  unrestrained  emotion.  She  was  deadly 
white,  and  rushed  in  as  if  seeking  escape  from  some  danger. 

"  Elizabeth  !  "  he  called  out. 

She  started  as  if  he  had  struck  her,  but  she  was  accus 
tomed  now  to  controlling  herself,  and  after  that  first  trem 
bling  fit,  threw  off  her  shawl  and  forced  her  face  into  com 
posure. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Only  on  the  veranda,"  she  said,  a  little  too  hurried 
ly  ;  "  I  was  so  tired  and  my  head  ached — I  wanted  air." 

He  looked  at  her,  dissatisfied  and  suspicious. 

"You  might  have  caught  your  death/'  he  said;  "I 
wonder  at  you." 

"  It  was  foolish,"  she  returned,  trying  to  laugh,  "  but 
the  dinner  was  so  tedious.  Come  into  the  drawing-room." 

She  made  an  effort  to  speak  playfully,  as  Elsie  might 
have  done,  but  it  was  a  failure. 

"Your  shoes  are  damp/'  he  exclaimed  suddenly  ;  "you 
have  been  on  the  grass — pray  what  could  take  you  there?" 

"  1 — I  just  ran  down  the  steps — I  won't  do  so  again." 

Elsie  heard  their  voices — she  always  heard  everything — 
and  opened  the  door. 

"  Come  in  here,  you  naughty  people,"  she  cried,  laugh 
ing  and  speaking  lightly,  though  there  was  a  gleam  in  her 
eyes.  "  Oh !  Mrs.  Thompson,  husbands  and  wives  who 
have  been  separated  are  worse  than  lovers." 

She   forced  them  to  enter,  talking  in  her  excited  way, 


212         S  EACH  TNG      FOR      THE      BRACELET. 

and  making  everybody  laugh  so  much  that  neither  the 
frown  on  Melleu's  brow  nor  his  wife's  paleness  were  ob 
served. 

"You  have  been  out,"  she  found  an  opportunity  to 
whisper  to  Elizabeth  ;  "  you  must  be  mad  !  " 

"  I  shall  be !  "  groaned  the  woman  j  "  I  shall  be  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

SEARCHING  FOR  THE  BRACELET. 

THE  very  sight  of  her  sister's  carelessness  and  gayety, 
made  Elizabeth  feel  how  necessary  it  was  to  be  composed  ; 
her  husband  was  watching  her  still.  Some  one  asked  her 
to  play ;  she  took  her  seat  at  the  piano  and  played  one  of 
her  most  brilliant  pieces — to  sing,  and  her  rich  contralto 
voice  rang  out  with  new  passion  and  power.  I  tell  you 
even  women  can  only  marvel  at  the  power  many  of  the 
sex  preserve  over  themselves  when  playing  for  a  great 
stake,  and  the  least  betrayal  of  look  or  movement  might 
be  full  of  danger. 

The  evening  passed  off  without  further  incident,  and  the 
guests  went  away  delighted  with  their  reception,  thinking 
what  agreeable  people  the  Mellens  were,  and  how  happy 
thej7  must  be  in  their  beautiful  home. 

"  Oh — oh — oh  !  "  cried  Elsie,  flinging  up  her  arms  with 
a  yawn  that  distorted  her  pretty  mouth  out  of  all  propor 
tion.  "Thank  heaven,  they  are  gone!  I  am  sure  an 
other  half  hour  would  have  killed  me." 

"  You  deceitful  little  thing  !  "  said  her  brother,  who  had 
nearly  recovered  his  cheerfulness.  "  I  heard  you  tell  poor 
young  Thompson  that  you  had  never  enjoyed  yourself  so 
thoroughly." 


SEARCHING      FOR     THE      BRACELET.       213 

"  Of  course  I  did  ;  what  else  could  I  say." 

Mr.  Mellen  laughed  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

Elsie  was  standing  by  the  fire,  she  was  always  complain 
ing  of  cold,  and  Elizabeth  walked  towards  her  as  the  door 
closed. 

"  Don't ! "  whispered  Elsie,  "  you  are  going  to  talk — 
don't!" 

Elizabeth  dropped  into  a  seat  with  a  wearied  look,  such 
as  a  person  wears  after  hours  of  self-restraint. 

"  It's  of  no  use  to  talk,"  said  Elsie,  with  an  impatient 
gesture.  "  You  ought  not  to  have  gone  out " 

"  I  know ;  but  1  dared  not  wait.  Oh,  Elsie !  such  a 
scene " 

"Be  still !"  exclaimed  Elsie,  with  the  old  passion  which 
seemed  so  foreign  to  her  nature.  "  I  can't  hear — I  won't! 
Grantley  saw  you  ! " 

"  Yes  ;  he  was  in  the  hall  when  I  entered,"  she  replied, 
with  the  same  dreary  despair  in  her  voice.  "  I  know,  I  feel 
that  something  will  happen  at  last." 

"  There  must  not — there  shall  not !  "  broke  in  Elsie. 

"  Such  madness — such  greedy  selfishness " 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  shivered  Elsie  ;  "  please  don't !  " 

Elizabeth  dropped  her  hands  into  her  lap  with  a  gesture 
full  of  weariness  and  desolation ;  as  they  fell  apart  she 
lifted  them  up  to  Elsie,  with  a  look  of  helpless  distress. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  Elsie.     "  Don't  frighten  me  ! " 

"  My  bracelet !  "  moaned  Elizabeth.     "  My  bracelet ! " 

"  You  have  lost  it  ?  " 

"  Gone,  I  tell  you !  He  would  have  money  —  I  was 
nearly  mad — I  pulled  it  off  to  pacify  him." 

"  Which  bracelet — not  the  new  one  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  one  Grantley  brought  me.  Oh,  what  shall 
I  do  ?  " 

"He  won't  notice  it,"  said  Elsie  ;  "you  can  wear  mine." 

"  He  will  notice  it,"  returned  Elizabeth.  "  It  may  be 
sold — he  may  find  it." 


214      SEARCHING      FOR      THE      BRACELET. 

"You  can  say  that  you  lost  it." 

"  But  your  brother  is  so  suspicious." 

"  You  ought  to  have  had  your  wits  about  you,"  said 
Elsie,  fretfully. 

"  It  is  easy  for  you  to  talk ! "  exclaimed  Elizabeth.  "  If 
you  had  been  in  my  place,  listening  to  those  threats " 

"Stop,  stop!"  Elsie  almost  shrieked,  hiding  her  face 
in  her  hands.  "  I  am  going  into  spasms — I  shall  choke  !  " 

"  But  a  crisis  is  near !  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth.  "  You 
don't  know  all  that  a  bad,  desperate  creature  is  capable  of, 
to  accomplish  his  ends." 

"I  can't  do  anything,"  moaned  Elsie.  "What  am  I  in 
all  this  ?  You  promised  to  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  So  I  will,  Elsie — I  will.  God  knows  I  am  ready  to 
bear  my  burthen  alone ;  but  sometimes  I  must  speak." 

"  It  does  no  good,"  said  Elsie,  beginning  to  cry.  "  I'd 
rather  be  dead  than  live  in  this  way  ! " 

"Be  a  woman,  with  some  feeling  for  a  sister  woman!" 
cried  Elizabeth,  aroused  into  severity. 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk,  you  are  a  great  strong 
thing ;  I  don't  mean  that  you  are  big,  but  your  nerves  are 
like  iron  and  I  am  so  weak.  Grantley  says  he  believes  the 
least  thing  would  kill  me  ;  he  knows  how  frail  my  health 
is." 

Passionate  indignation  lighted  up  Elizabeth's  face  for 
an  instant,  but  it  softened  into  pity,  like  that  with  which 
she  might  have  regarded  a  pet  animal  whimpering  under 
a  hurt. 

"  Be  good  to  me,"  said  Elsie.  "  I  can't  help  you.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  selfish,  but  I  must  have  my  sunshine.  I 
don't  dare  even  to  talk  about  it  at  all.  If  Grant  ever  should 
find  out  anything,  even  my  talking  to  you  about  it  would 
enrage  him  so  !  " 

"And  what  would  become  of  me?"  demanded  Eliza 
beth.  "  Do  you  never  think  of  what  would  happen  to 
me?" 


SEARCHING      FOR      THE      BRACELET.       215 

"  Ob,  but  he  won't  find  out  anything,"  urged  Elsie, 
changing  her  tone  at  once.  "Just  let  things  rest.  The 
wretcli  will  be  quiet  for  a  time." 

"  No,  no ;  I  tell  you  money  must  be  raised. 

"  More  money  ?  " 

"  I  promised  it ;  there  was  no  other  way.  But  heaven 
knows  where  I  shall  get  it." 

"Well,  tell  Grant  about  some  family  or  hospital " 

"  Lies  !  "  interrupted  Elizabeth  ;  "  always  lies  !  Sinking 
deeper  into  the  pit  every  day.  I  tell  you  this  constant 
deceit  makes  me  hate  myself!  " 

"  Now  you  are  going  off  again  !     Oh,  my  head  !  n 

"  Hush,  I  say  !     You  are  safe,  at  any  rate  !  " 

"  Whatever  comes,  I  shall  not  be  dragged  into  it  ? n 
pleaded  Elsie. 

"  No,  no  ;  have  I  not  promised  ?  "  returned  Elizabeth,  in 
her  anguish  and  her  bitterness,  hardly  noticing  the  girl's 
selfish  fears. 

Elsie  threw  both  arms  about  her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  You  are  so  good ! "  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  wasn't 
such  a  weak  little  thing  !  Don't  despise  me,  Bessie,  because 
I  can't  do  anything  to  help  you." 

"I  don't— I  don't.  Your  arm  hurts  me!"  Elizabeth 
pushed  the  girl's  caressing  arm  away,  struggling  hard  to  be 
calm. 

"  If  I  had  never  known " 

But  Elizabeth  checked  the  selfish  wail. 

"It  is  too  late  now  to  think  of  that.  I  tell  you  I  shall 
not  trouble  you  any  more." 

"  When  the  paper  fell  on  the  stones,"  said  Elsie,  "  I  was 
so  frightened." 

Elizabeth  gasped  for  breath  at  the  very  thought. 

"But  I  managed  cleverly.  I  am  very  weak  and  nervous, 
but  I  have  my  wits  about  me  sometimes." 

Elizabeth  was  shivering  from  head  to  foot,  whether  with 


216       SEARCHING      FOR      THE      BRACELET. 

remorse  at  the  knowledge  of  evil  which  this  young  girl  had 
gained  through  her,  or  some  hidden  fear,  no  one  could  tell. 
"  I  must  go  to  town/'  she  said  j  "  but  what  excuse  can  I 
make  ?  " 

"  Oh,  anything  !  Tell  Grant  we  want  to  make  purchases. 
I'll  do  it.  But  why  must  you  go  ?  " 

"  The  money,  I  tell  you  the  money !  I  havS  those 
stocks ;  if  I  could  sell  them.  I  might  tell  Mr.  Hinchley  I 
was  in  debt  and  feared  to  have  my  husband  know  it. 
Another  lie — another  lie  !  " 

"  Oh,"  groaned  Elsie,  "  the  lying  is  the  least  part  of  it ! 
if  that  could  do  you  any  good  ! " 

"  You  don't  know  the  worst.  If  you  had  to  face  him  ! 
Oh,  Elsie,  the  shame,  the  remorse  I" 

Elizabeth  wrung  her  hands  again  with  the  same  passionate 
fury  she  had  displayed  after  reading  the  note.  Then  Elsie 
began  to  grow  hysterical  and  cry  out : 

"  You  must  stop  !  you  must  stop  !  " 

Elizabeth  made  an  effort  to  control  her  own  suffering  and 
soothe  the  girl's  nervous  paroxysm,  to  which  Elsie  gave  way 
with  wilful  abandonment,  half  because  she  felt  it,  and  half 
to  escape  a  scene. 

By  the  time  they  were  both  quieted  Mr.  Mellen  re 
turned  to  the  room,  and  by  one  of  those  evil  chances  that 
often  happen  he  began  speaking  of  the  very  subject  that 
had  aroused  their  fears. 

"Those  bracelets  are  the  admiration  of  everybody,"  he 
said. 

Elizabeth  glanced  at  Elsie.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  hide 
her  hands,  but  she  checked  that  and  forced  herself  to  utter 
some  sort  of  answer  to  his  remark. 

Elsie  gave  another  long  yawn. 

"  I  am  going  to  bed,"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  I  advise  you  both 
to  do  the  same." 

"  I  wish  I  understood  the  meaning  of  the  device.     Let 


SEARCHING      FOR     THE      BRACELET.       217 

me  see  your  bracelet,  Bessie,"  he  continued,  without  heeding 
his  sister  and  bent  on  his  own  train  of  thought.  Just  let 
me  look — — " 

Elsie  thrust  out  her  arm. 

"Look  at  mine,"  she  said. 

"No,  no  ;  Bessie's  has  a  different  design.  I  want  to  see 
that.  Show  me  yours,  Elizabeth. " 

Elizabeth  did  not  stir.  Whiter  she  could  not  grow,  but 
a  hopeless  despair  settled  over  her  face,  pitiful  to  witness. 

"  Can't  you  show  me  your  bracelet  ? "  demanded  her 
husband,  with  natural  impatience. 

"  I  haven't  it,"  she  faltered. 

"  Why,  I  saw  it  on  your  arm  at  dinner ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  bother,  Grant,"  interposed  Elsie ;  "  talking 
about  devices,  when  one  is  half  asleep." 

"Elizabeth,  where  is  your  bracelet?"  demanded  her 
husband,  imperiously. 

The  exigency  of  the  case  gave  her  courage. 

"I  have  lost  it,"  she  said,  her  voice  sounding  fairly  in 
different  from  the  effort  she  made  at  composure. 

"  Lost  it !  "  he  repeated.     "  How  ?     Where  ?  " 

"While  I  was  out " 

"  She  was  just  beginning  to  tell  me  when  you  came  in," 
interrupted  Elsie.  "  We  are  both  frightened  to  death,  so 
don't  scold." 

"  Such  unpardonable  carelessness,"  continued  Mr.  Mellen. 
"  At  least,  Elizabeth,  you  need  not  appear  so  indifferent." 

"  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,"  she  answered  coldly. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  lost  mine,  I  should  be  wretched,"  cried 
Elsie,  kissing  hers.  "  You  dear  old  bracelet ! " 

Elizabeth  shot  one  terrible  look  at  her,  but  was  silent. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  at  least  prize  my  gift,"  said  Mr. 
Mellen.  "  I  suppose  you  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to 
search,  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  no  time " 


218         SEACHING      FOR      THE     BRACELET. 

"  The  moon  is  down,"  said  Elsie. 

"  There  are  lanterns,  I  suppose." 

He  rang  and  ordered  a  servant  to  bring  a  lantern,  went 
out  and  searched  for  the  missing  ornament,  while  Elsie 
cowered  over  the  hall  fire  and  Elizabeth  stood,  cold  and 
white,  in  the  way. 

Clorinda  came  out  of  her  domain  while  Mr.  Mellen  and 
Dolf  were  searching  the  hall. 

"Lost  something  marster?"  she  demanded,  with  the 
coolness  peculiar  to  her  race. 

"  Missis  has  lost  her  bracelet,"  interposed  Dolf. 

"  Laws  !  "  cried  Clorinda,  not  perceiving  her  mistress  on 
the  veranda.  "  I  neber  seed  nobody  lose  tings  so ;  'taint  a 
month  since  she  lost  a  di'mond  ring,  and  all  she  said,  when 
her  maid  missed  it,  was,  '  It  can't  be  helped.'" 

This  was  an  aside  to  Dolf,  but  Mr.  Mellen  heard  the 
words  plainly,  so  did  Elizabeth. 

"  I'll  bet  yer  don't  find  it,"  pursued  Clorinda.  "  I  heerd 
steps  early  in  de  evenin'" ;  I  knows  I  did,  though  missis 
called  me  a  foolish  cullud  pusson  once  when  I  told  her  of 
hearing  ?em.  Dar's  thieves  about,  now ;  member  I  tells 
yer ! " 

"  Clorinda,"  called  Elizabeth,  "  go  into  the  house.  The 
next  time  you  venture  any  remark  on  me  you  will  leave  my 
service." 

Clorinda  sallied  back  as  if  she  had  been  shot,  and  darted 
into  her  own  dominions,  less  favorably  disposed  than  ever 
towards  the  mistress  for  reproving  her  before  Dolf. 

Mr.  Mellen  dismissed  the  man,  walked  into  the  veranda 
and  confronted  his  wife.  He  was  pale  as  death,  in  the 
moonlight.  His  agitation  made  Elizabeth  more  sternly 
cold  ;  she  knew  that  look,  she  had  borne  it  in  his  suspicious, 
jealous  moments  in  the  old  time. 

"  Did  you  lose  that  bracelet,  Elizabeth  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Did  I  not  say  so  ?  "  she  retorted. 


SEARCHING      FOR     THE      BRACELET.       219 

"  I  can't  understand    it,"  he    went   on  ;  "  these    sudden 

frights  and  tremors,  these  mj'sterious  losses " 

"The  old  suspicions,"  she  broke  in,  goaded  into  defiance 
by  the  actual  danger.  "  You  promised  me  to  have  done 
with  all  those  things,  Grantley." 

"  Admit  at  least " 

"  I  will  admit  nothing.  I  will  not  talk  to  you  when  you 
speak  in  that  tone.  I  am  sorry  the  bracelet  is  gone,  but  I 
am  not  a  child  to  be  threatened." 

Elsie  heard  it  all,  and  when  the  dialogue  reached  that 
point  she  crept  quietly  upstairs,  determined  that  at  least 
she  would  be  beyond  even  the  sound  of  their  difficulty. 

For  a  few  moments  they  retorted  bitterly  upon  each 
other.  Formerly  it  had  been  Elizabeth's  resolution  to  bear 
in  silence,  but  it  is  hard  to  be  patient  when  one  has  a  fatal 
wrong  to  conceal. 

It  was  very  unsatisfactory,  but  there  the  matter  ended. 
The   next  morning  Mr.  Mellen  made  another  thorough 
search  for  the  bracelet.     Still  no  signs  of  it  was  discovered, 
but  he  did  find  traces  of  footsteps  in  the  grass,  which  proved 
the  truth  of  Clorinda's  suspicions. 

"  It's  over,  at  all  events,"  said  Elsie,  as  she  met  Elizabeth 
on  the  stairs. 

"  Over !  "  repeated  the  half-distracted  woman,  desper 
ately  ;  "  who  can  tell  how  or  when  it  may  come  up  again  ?" 
Elsie  kissed  her  and  flew  away,  leaving  Elizabeth  to  seek 
safety  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  while  she  went  in 
search  of  her  brother,  not  with  the  object  of  benefiting 
Elizabeth,  but  anxious  to  impress  upon  his  mind  that  she 
at  least  did  nothing  to  distress  or  vex  him. 


220  BELOW      STAIRS. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BELOW    STAIKS. 

WHILE  matters  were  moving  on  thus  excitedly  above 
stairs  there  was  an  unusual  commotion  in  the  lower  regions, 
effected  by  the  machinations  and  deceptions  of  that  arch- 
flirt,  Dolf.  He  had  succeeded  in  accomplishing  what  no 
sable  gallant  had  ever  done  before  ;  he  had  softened  Clo- 
rinda's  obdurate  heart,  and  made  her  think  it  possible  that 
at  some  future  time  she  might  be  persuaded  to  place  her 
fair  self,  and  what  she  prized  more,  her  money,  in  Dolf 's 
keeping. 

But  the  worst  of  it  was,  Dolf 's  susceptible  fancy  led  him 
strongly  in  another  direction,  even  while  his  discretion 
warned  him  to  follow  up  the  success  he  had  achieved  with 
the  culinary  nymph.  Victoria  was  a  stylish,  handsome 
young  mulatto,  and  Clorinda  was,  undoubtedly,  pure 
African  to  the  very  root  of  her  genealogical  tree.  African 
from  the  soul  of  her  broad  foot  to  the  end,  I  cannot  say 
point,  of  her  flat  nose.  Indeed,  it  is  quite  possible  that 
Dolf 's  yellow  skin  went  for  something  in  her  admiration  ; 
but  unfortunately  Dolf  preferred  the  cafe-au-lait  complexion 
also,  and  had  a  masculine  weakness  in  favor  of  youth  and 
good  looks. 

Poor  Clorinda  certainly  did  present  a  rather  dry  and 
withered  aspect ;  her  hands  bore  rough  evidence  of  the  toil 
with  which  she  had  earned  the  money  her  sable  lover 
coveted,  and  their  clasp  was  very  unsatisfactory  to  a  man 
whose  flirtations  had  hitherto  been  with  ladies'  maids.  She 
was  sadly  destitute  of  the  airs  and  graces  with  which  Vic 
toria  fascinated  the  grand  sex  so  freel}'-  upon  all  occasions  ; 
Clo's  curly  tresses  held  quantities  of  whiteness,  and  she 
could  only  hide  it  under  gorgeous  bandannas,  which  were 


BELOW     STAIRS.  221 

now  wofully  out  of  fashion  among  the  colored  aristocrats, 
and  gaze  enviously  at  Victoria's  long  curls,  feeling  her 
fingers  quiver  to  give  them  a  pull  when  that  damsel  flut 
tered  them  too  jauntily  in  her  eyes. 

There  had  always  been  trouble  enough  between  the  two, 
but  after  Dolf 's  arrival  the  kitchen  department  grew  very 
hot  and  uncomfortable,  and  even  the  wary  Dolf  himself, 
skilled  as  he  was  in  Lotharian  practices,  frequently  had 
great  difficulty  in  steering  clear  of  both  Scylla  and 
Chary  bdis. 

Clorinda  was  much  given  to  devotional  exercises,  and 
went  to  meeting  on  every  possible  occasion ;  while  Victoria, 
with  the  flightiness  of  her  years,  laughed  at  Clo's  psalm- 
singing,  and  interrupted  her  prayers"  in  the  most  fervid  part 
by  polka  steps  and  profane  redowas.  In  order  to  propitiate 
Clorinda,  Dolf  had  accompanied  her  to  meeting  much 
oftener  than  his  inclinations  prompted,  expressing  the 
utmost  desire  to  be  remembered  in  her  prayers,  all  the 
while  denouncing  himself  as  a  miserable  sinner  not  worth 
saving. 

But  good  women  with  a  weakness  for  helping  masculine 
sinners  are  alike  in  one  thing,  no  matter  what  their  color 
may  be — wickedness  has  a  strange  attraction  for  them.  It 
was  the  peril  in  which  she  considered  Dolf,  that  made  Clo 
so  lenient  towards  him  ;  it  would  be  such  a  triumph  to  win 
him  from  his  wicked  ways,  and  lead  him  up  to  a  height 
where  he  would  be  secure  from  the  craft  of  the  evil  one,  and 
what  was  more  important,  beyond  the  wiles  of  that  yellow 
girl  Victoria,  who  was  regard-ed  by  her  fellow-servants  as  a 
direct  emissary  of  the  prince  of  darkness. 

Clo  labored  faithfully  with  'Dolf,  though  it  must  be  con 
fessed  she  allowed  her  religious  instructions  to  be  diversi 
fied  with  a  little  more  love-making  than  would  have  been 
quite  sanctioned  by  her  class  leader,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  became  extravagant  in  the  matter  of  dress, 


222  BELOW      STAIRS. 

wearing  the  most  gorgeous  bandannas  every  day,  and  even 
adopting  an  immense  crinoline,  which  she  managed  so  badly 
that  it  was  constantly  bringing  her  into  grotesque  difficul 
ties,  to  Victoria's  intense  delight. 

Of  course  these  females,  like  their  betters,  never  quarreled 
openly  about  Dolf,  but  they  found  endless  subjects  of  dis 
pute  to  improve  upon,  and  sometimes  that  adroit  fellow  got 
into  serious  difficulty  with  both  by  attempting  to  mediate 
between  them. 

On  occasions  the  sable  rivals  would  hide  their  bitterness 
under  smiles  and  good  nature,  and  appear  almost  affectionate 
after  the  influence  of  a  sudden  truce  ;  but  Dolf  learned  to 
dread  those  seasons  of  deceitful  calm,  for  they  were  the 
sure  precursors  of  an  unusually  fierce  tempest,  which,  blow 
ing  in  opposite  directions,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
escape. 

These  three  restless  persons  went  out  one  evening  to  pay 
a  visit  to  some  sable  friends  in  the  neighborhood,  where  the 
colored  gentry  often  met  and  had  choice  little  entertain 
ments  ;  where  the  eatables  came  from  perhaps  it  would  not 
have  been  wise  for  their  employers  to  inquire. 

Old  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  her  fascinating  daughter,  Miss 
Dinah,  were  the  possessors  of  this  abode,  and  Clo  arid 
Victoria  had  for  some  time  been  promising  Dolf  a  visit 
there.  That  night  seemed  a  favorable  occasion  for  the 
expedition,  as  a  store  of  fruit  pies,  blanc  mange  and  chicken 
salad,  had  that  day  been  moulded  by  Clo's  own  expert  hands, 
and  half  a  jelly  cake  set  aside  in  the  closet  ready  for  the 
basket  which  took  so  many  mysterious  journeys  in  Mrs. 
Hopkins'  direction. 

"  I  nebber  sends  back  pieces  to  de  table,"  said  Clo  ;  "  it's 
wulgar." 

"In  course  it  is,"  returned  Dolf;  "  Fse  sure  nothing 
would  orritate  master  more." 

Vic  attempted  no  deceptions  on  her  conscience  j  she  liked 


BELOW      STAIRS.  223 

jelly  cake,  and  did  not  trouble  herself  about  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  obtained ;  since  her  earliest  remembrance 
stolen  delicacies  had  never  given  her  a  moment's  indigestion, 
or  the  least  approach  to  moral  nightmare. 

They  went  over  to  visit  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  Miss  Dinah, 
and  the  evening  was  made  a  festive  one,  with  Clo's  pies,  the 
hard  cider  which  Mrs.  Hopkins  provided,  and  other  deli 
cacies  which  composed  a  sumptuous  entertainment. 

But  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  two  or  three  other  friends 
strayed  in,  and  among  them  was  a  young  woman  as  much 
given  to  coquetry  as  Dolf  himself;  and  before  a  great 
while  Dolf 's  love  of  flirtation  got  the  better  of  his  prudence, 
and  plentiful  doses  of  the  hard  cider  rendered  him  reckless. 
In  spite  of  the  indignation  which  both  Clo  and  Victoria 
displayed,  he  was  exerting  all  his  fascinations  on  the  new 
comer,  while  her  neglected  beau  sat  looking  like  a  modern 
Othello,  with  every  glance  expressive  of  bowie-knives  at 
least. 

When  the  damsel  went  out  with  Miss  Dinah,  for  an  extra 
bench  from  the  wash-house,  Dolf  accompanied  them,  and 
directly  the  company  were  startled  by  a  direful  com 
mingling  of  laughter  and  doleful  shrieks. 

Clo  flew  to  the  door  and  opened  it ;  Victoria  peeped  over 
her  shoulder ;  there  was  that  perfidious  Dolf  encircling  the 
stranger  damsel  with  his  right  arm,  and  making  bold  efforts 
to  lay  hold  of  the  wash-bench  with  his  left. 

Dolf  looked  up  and  saw  Clo ;  he  was  not  so  much  under 
the  excitement  of  the  cider  that  he  could  not  understand 
the  risk  he  ran. 

"  Dare  is  pretty  conducts  !  "  exclaimed  Clo. 
"  I  shud  tink  so/'  chimed  in  Victoria.     "  If  you  please, 
Miss  Clorinda,  I  tink  I  will  locomote  home  ;  I  ain't  accus 
tomed  to  sich  goings  on  myself;  dey  isn't  de  fashion  in  de 
Piney  Cove  basement." 

Clorinda  got  her  bonnet  and  tied  it  on  her  head  with  an 
indignant  jerk. 


224  BELOW      STAIRS. 

The  outraged  damsels  would  hear  no  persuasions,  and 
Dolf  was  forced  to  accompany  them  back,  aiid  a  very  un 
comfortable  time  he  had  of  it. 

First  they  abused  the  impudent  young  pusson  they  had 
left  behind,  and  nearly  annihilated  Dolf  when  he  attempted 
a  word  in  the  young  woman's  favor. 

"I  'clar,"  cried  Clo  at  last;  "  Mr.  Dolf,  yer  go  'long  as 
crooked  as  a  rail  fence ;  what  am  de  matter,  are  }Ter  jest 
done  gone  and  no  'count  nigger  any  how  ?  " 

Dolf  only  gave  a  racy  chuckle. 

"  I  guess  goiu'  into  the  wash-room  turned  his  head," 
said  Vic. 

"  De  siety  I'se  enjoyin'  at  dis  minit,"  said  deceitful 
Dolf,  "is  enough  to  turn  de  head  of  any  gernman." 

"  Oh,  we  know  all  'bout  dat,"  said  Vic. 

"  In  course  you  does/'  returned  Dolf,  forgetting  Clorinda, 
and  trying  to  seize  Vic's  hand,  but  so  uncertain  were  his 
movements  that  she  readily  escaped  him. 

Clorinda  saw  it  all ;  it  was  fuel  to  the  flame  which  con 
sumed  her. 

"  Miss  Victory,"  said  she,  "  yer  needn't  push  me  into  de 
brook." 

"  Who's  a  pushin'  of  yer  ?  "  retorted  Victoria,  with  equal 
acidity. 

"  Yer  was,  yer  own  self." 

"  I  didn't — so  dar  !  Guess  somethin'  ails  yer  head  too, 
de  way  yer  go  on — pushin'  indeed." 

"  I  scorns  yer  insinuations"  said  Clorinda,  "  and  despises 
yer  actuations ! " 

ft  Jis'  don't  go  pitchin'  into  me  and  callin'  me  names," 
retorted  Vic  ;  "  'cause  I  won't  stand  it." 

"  Ladies,  ladies  !  "  interposed  Dolf.  "  Don't  resturb  de 
harmonium  of  our  walk  by  any  onpleasant  words." 

"  I  ain't  a  sayin'  nothin',"  said  Vic. 

"Yer've  said  more'n  I,"  returned  Clo,  "and  I  ain't 
gwine  to  be  pushed  inter  de  ditch  by  nobody — thar !  " 


BELOW      STAIRS.  225 

Clorinda  was  naturally  more  irritated  than  Vic,  because 
"Dolf  had  made  no  effort  to  seize  upon  her  hand,  which 
trembled  to  give  him  a  pardoning  clasp. 

"  Nobody  wants  ter  push  yer,"  said  Vic. 

"  I  don'  know  'bout  dat,"  said  Clo,  solemnly  ;  "  I  b'lieve 
if  I  was  murdered  in  my  bed  I  shud  know  whar  ter  look 
for  de  murderer." 

"  Sich  subjects,  Miss  Clorinda,  is  not  fit  for  yer  lubly 
lips,"  said  Dolf;  "don'  gib  dem  houseroom,  I  begs." 

"  Mr.  Dolf,"  returned  Clorinda,  with  a  severity  that 
pierced  like  a  warning  through  the  elation  of  Lothario's 
brain ;  "  don7  try  none  ob  dem  flightinesses  wid  me ;  I 
ain't  one  ob  dat  sort." 

"What  sort  ?  "  asked  Victoria. 

"  Neber  yer  mind,"  said  Clo,  with  majesty;  "neber  yer 
mind,  miss ;  children  don'  comprehensianise  sich  like." 

"  I  onderstands  Miss  Clorinda,  and  I  venerates  her  sen- 
timens."  observed  Dolf;  "but  when  a  gemman  finds  his- 
self  in  sich  siety  as  dis,  de  language  of  compliments  flows 
as  naturally  ter  his  lips  as — as — cider  from  a  junk  bottle." 

This  well-rounded  period  softened  both  the  damsels  a 
little ;  Dolf  got  Clo  on  his  right  arm  and  Vic  on  his  left ; 
the,  support  was  not  unwelcome  to  himself  just  then  ;  and 
he  managed  to  keep  them  both  in  tolerable  humor  until 
they  nearly  reached  the  house. 

Whether  Dolf  stumbled,  or  Victoria  gave  a  sly,  vicious 
push,  it  was  difficult  to  tell  in  the  darkness,  but  Clorinda 
went  suddenly  down  full  length  in  the  path. 

Victoria  gave  a  laugh  of  derision,  and  this  gratification 
of  her  malicious  feelings  in  the  misfortune  of  her  rival,  put 
her  in  high  good-humor. 

Dolf  hastened  to  help  Clorinda  up,  but  his  movements 
were  a  little  uncertain,  and  the  first  thing  be  did  was  to 
set  his  foot  through  the  crown  of  her  bonnet,  which  had 
fallen  back  from  her  head. 
14 


226  BELOW      STAIRS. 

«  Pse  killed,"  shrieked  Clo. 

"  Do  scream  low,  like  a  'spectable  ole  woman  ! "  cried  the 
tmsympathising  Vic;  "yer'll  hab  de  whole  house  out." 

"  I  don't  keer,"  moaned  Clorinda  :  "  I  doa't  keer." 

"  Why  don'  yer  get  up  ?  "  demanded  Victoria. 

"  I'll  'sist  yer,  I'll  'sist  yer,"  said  Dolf,  making  another 
sidelong  movement. 

Clorinda  endeavored  to  help  herself,  but  the  effort  was 
a  failure,  and  there  she  lay  covered  with  confusion,  for  she 
could  not  think  of  giving  the  real  cause  of  her  continued 
prostration.  The  truth  was  she  had  knocked  one  high  heel 
from  a  pair  of  Mrs.  Harrington's  French  boots,  which  that 
lady  was  not  likely  to  miss  before  morning ;  and  had 
sprained  her  ankle  in  the  process,  a  very  unpleasant 
situation  for  a  modest  and  church  going  darkey  to  find 
herself  in,  late  at  night,  and  her  lover  looking  on. 

"  Be  yer  gwine  to  lay  dar  all  night !  "  asked  Vic. 

"  I  kin't  get  up,  I  tell  yer,"  said  Clo. 

"  Is  yer  bones  broke  ?  " 

11  Smashed.  One  of  ;em  am  smashed,"  answered  Clo, 
ruefully. 

"  No,  no ;  Miss  Clory,  not  as  bad  as  dat."  said  Dolf ; 
"  don't  petrificate  us  vvid  sich  a  idee.  Jis  let  me  sist  yer 
now." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Clorinda  j  "  wait  a  minife — my  foot — my 
foot !  " 

"  Hev  yer  hurt  it?  "  demanded  Vic  ;  "  let  me  zamine." 

"  It's  my  ankle  ;  can't  yer  understand  ?  " 

"No,  I  kiii't  onderstand  nothin'  'bout  it,  only  yer  makin' 
a  outrageous  ole  fool  o'  yerself,  and  freezin'  us  to  death. 
Mr.  Dolf,  'spozen  we  go  in." 

"  Yer  wouldn't   desart  a  sister  in   distress,"    said  Dolf, 
dancing  about  the  prostrate    form,  unable  to  comprehend 
why  Clo  would  not  permit  him  to  assist  her  ;    while  she 
huddled  herself  in  a  heap,  in  true  spinster  fear j)f  showing, 
her  ankles  or  exposing  the  borrowed  boot. 


BELOW      STAIRS.  227 

"Now,  Clo,"  cried  Victoria,  "jis  git  up ;  I  won't  stand 
dis  fooling  no  longer." 

"  Help  me,"  said  Clo  ;  "do  help  me." 

"  Hain't  Mr.  Dolf  ben  a  tryin'  dese  ten  minits  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  Bend  down  here,  Vic.  Mr.  Dolf,  if  yer*s  a 
gemman  I  ax  yer  to  shut  yer  eyes." 

"  My  duty  is  to  sarve  de  fair,"  said  Dolf,  turning  his 
back  and  peeping  over  his  shoulder,  very  curious  to  know 
what  could  be  the  difficulty. 

Clo  whispered  in  Victoria's  ear  with  agonised  sharpness, 

"  Dem  boots  am  so  high,  an'  my  ankle  is  guv  out,  jes 
ondo  de  buttons  !  " 

A  stone  might  have  sympathised  with  her  maidenly  dis 
tress,  but  that  wicked  Victoria  burst  into  absolute  shrieks 
of  laughter. 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh !  yer  ole  fool ! "  she  cried,  between  her 
shouts  of  merriment.  "  Yer  too  ole  for  new  fashions — 
telled  yer  so  !  " 

Clorinda's  outraged  modesty  was  forgotten  in  the  fury 
which  Victoria's  lack  of  sympathy  caused. 

"Jis  let  me  git  up!"  cried  she.  "I'll  fix  yer;  I'll 
frizzle  dem  long  beaucatchers  like  a  door  mat,  an'  stamp  on 
>em." 

"  What  am  it  ?"  demanded  Dolf. 

As  well  as  she  could  speak  for  laughing,  Victoria  began 

"  She's  just  choked  up  her  foot  in  Miss  Harrington's 
high  pinercled  boots  !  " 

"Hush  up!"  interrupted  Clo.  "I'll  pisen  yer  if  yei 
don't  shut  yer  impudent  mouth." 

"Ki!  ki!  ki!  oh,  laws,  I  shall  die!  Ole  folks  hadn't 
orter  try  to  be  young  uns.  I've  telled  yer  so,  Clo,  fifty 
times,"  shrieked  the  yellow  maiden  ;  "  'tain't  no  wonder 
yer  snickered,  Dolf;  borrered  feathers  !  he,  he  !  Vic  !  " 

Clorinda  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  yell  of  triumph  and 
rage,  and  limping  toward  Victoria,  caught  that  yellow 


228       MRS.      M  ELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN. 

maiden  by  her  much-prized  tresses,  and  for  a  few  moments 
the  battle  between  the  rivals  raged  furiously. 

Clo  quite  forgot  her  religion  in  the  excitement,  and  her 
language  might  have  shocked  the  elders  had  they  heard  it, 
while  Victoria  struggled  bravely  to  save  her  tresses  from 
extermination. 

"  De  hall  door's  a  openin',"  cried  Dolf,  struck  with  a 
brilliant  thought ;  "  I  believe  it's  marster  comin'  out." 

The  battle  ceased.  Dolf  ran  towards  the  house  and  the 
combatants  after  him  ;  Clorinda  limping  like  a  returned 
soldier,  but  Dolf  never  stopped  till  he  was  safe  in  his  own 
dormitory,  not  caring  to  trust  himself  in  the  presence  of 
either  of  the  infuriated  damsels. 

Indeed,  the  next  morning  it  required  the  special  inter 
ference  of  Mrs.  Mellon  herself  to  settle  the  matter,  and 
several  days  passed  before  perfect  harmony  was  restored 
in  the  lower  regions  at  Piiiey  Cove. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

MRS.    MELLEN    AND    HER    COUSIN. 

THE  next  afternoon  Tom  Fuller  came  down  to  the  island 
again. 

Elizabeth  and  Elsie  were  quite  alone,  for  Mellen  had 
driven  over  to  the  village  on  some  matter  of  business  ;  but 
the  sisters  were  not  taking  advantage  of  their  solitude  to 
indulge  in  one  of  those  long,  cozy,  confidential  chats  which 
had  been  their  habit  in  former  years. 

Elsie  was  in  the  upper  part  of  the  house  amusing  her 
self  after  her  own  fashion,  and  Elizabeth  sat  in  the  little 
morning-room  which  had  become  her  favorite  apartment  of 
late.  - 


MRS.     M  E  L  L  E  IS      AND      HER      COUSIN.       229 

It  was  a  small  room  in  the  old  part  of  the  house,  some 
what  sombre  in  its  character,  but  on  a  bright  day  relieved 
by  a  beautiful  view  of  the  soa  which  was  afforded  from  the 
In-euch  windows,  the  only  modern  feature  which  Mellen 
had  added  to  it. 

On  a  dark  morning  the  apartment  was  gloomy  enough ; 
the  ceilings  were  low,  crossed  with  heavy  carved  beams 
that  made  their  want  of  height  still  more  apparent ;  the 
upper  portion  of  the  walls  were  hung  with  dark  crimson 
cloth,  met  half  way  down  by  a  wainscoatiug  of  unpolished 
oak,  dark  and  stained  with  age. 

The  furniture  had  been  in  the  house  since  the  Revolu 
tion ;  the  massive  chairs,  each  one  of  which  was  a  weight 
to  lift,  had  been  covered  with  a  fabric  to  match  the  hang 
ings.  The  whole  room  had  a  quaint  aspect,  and  was  filled 
with  a  store  of  relics  and  curiosities  which  would  have 
delighted  a  lover  of  the  antique. 

Elsie  detested  the  apartment  and  never  would  occupy  it, 
but  when  alone  Elizabeth  sought  it  from  choice  ;  the  darker 
and  drearier  the  day  the  more  pertinaciously  she  clung 
to  the  old  room,  w-here  the  shadows  lay  heavy  and  grim, 
and  every  sound  was  echoed  with  preternatural  sharpness. 

But  this  day  was  bright  and  beautiful  as  summer  itself. 
The  apartment  looked  cheerful  and  picturesque,  and  Eliza 
beth  made  a  pretty  picture,  seated  by  one  of  the  open  win 
dows,  with  her  light  dress  forming  an  agreeable  contrast  to 
the  sombre  draperies  about  her. 

She  had  a  work-basket  on  the  little  spider-legged  table 
by  her  side  and  a  mass  of  embroidery  on  her  lap,  but  the 
needle  had  fallen  from  her  hold,  her  hands  lay  idly  upon 
her  knee,  and  she  was  looking  out  over  the  bright  waters 
with  a  dreamy,  wistful  gaze,  which  had  become  habitual 
with  her  whenever  the  necessity  for  self-restraint  was 
removed  and  she  was  free  to  suffer,  unobserved. 

Tom  entered  the  room  in  his  usual  haste,  and  found  her 


280       MRS.      MELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN. 

sitting  in  this  dreamy  attitude ;  she  started  at  the  sound 
of  his  tread,  and  with  the  caution  she  was  daily  acquiring 
changed  her  listless  position,  and  threw  the  mask  of  a 
smile  over  her  face,  which  it  was  so  dangerous  to  lift  even 
for  an  instant. 

"  Here  I  am/'  cried  Tom ;  "  back  again,  like  a  bad 
penny.  I  hope  you  are  not  beginning  to  hate  the  sight  of 
my  ugly  face." 

He  rushed  towards  her,  upset  the  spider-legged  table 
that  was  always  ready  to  topple  over  on  the  least  provoca 
tion,  made  a  hopeless  labyrinth  of  her  embroidery  silks, 
gave  her  a  kiss  of  greeting,  and  hurried  on  with  number 
less  questions,  just  as  if  he  were  in  the  greatest  possible 
haste,  and  it  was  a  necessity  of  life  and  death  that  he 
should  throw  off  everything  that  happened  to  be  on  his 
mind  before  he  dashed  away. 

"  And  you  are  not  tired  of  seeing  me,  Bessie,  you  are 
sure  of  that  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  You  are  a  silly  fellow  to  ask  such  questions,"  she 
replied ;  "you  know  how  glad  I  am  to  have  you  come." 

"  You're  a  darling  old  girl,"  cried  Tom,  "  and  there's  no 
more  to  be  said  about  it." 

"  Then,  if  you  have  finished,  please  pick  up  my  unfortu 
nate  table.  See  what  a  state  these  poor  silks  are  in." 

"  I'm  always  in  mischief,"  said  Tom,  contritely,  restoring 
the  table  to  its  equilibrium  with  great  difficulty;  "I'm 
more  out  of  place  in  a  lady's  parlor  than  an  owl  in  a 
canary  bird's  cage." 

"  Your  mistakes  are  better  than  other  men's  elegancies," 
said  Elizabeth,  heartily. 

It  rested  her  to  be  in  Tom's  society ;  with  him  she  was 
not  forced  constantly  to  play  a  part,  and  he  had  been  a 
great  resource  to  her  ever  since  his  return. 

Many  times  she  said  to  herself: 

"He  would  love  me,  whatever  caine  —  I  can  always 
depend  on  him." 


MRS.     M  ELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN.       231 

She  was  thinking  something  of  the  kind,  just  then, 
while  she  began  assorting  her  silks  ;  and  Tom  stood  meekly 
by,  longing  to  repair  the  mischief  he  had  occasioned,  but 
perfectly  certain  that  he  should  only  do  a  good  deal  more 
harm  if  he  attempted  it. 

Besides  that,  something  else  was  in  his  mind — there 
always  was  before  he  had  been  five  minutes  in  the  house 
if  Elsie  did  not  make  her  appearance. 

He  shuffled  about,  answered  Elizabeth's  questions  halt 
ingly,  and  at  last  burst  out : 

"  Where  is  the  little  fairy — has  she  gone  out,  too  ?  " 

"  Elsie,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Who  else,  of  course  ?     Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Up  in  her  room,  I  fancy,"  replied  Elizabeth. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  bear  her  out  of  your  sight  for 
an  instant,"  cried  Tom  ;  "I'm  sure  I  couldn't  if  I  lived  in 
the  house  with  her." 

"  Nonsense,  Tom  !  " 

"  There  is  no  nonsense  about  it ;  it's  just  the  truth." 

Several  times  Elizabeth  had  attempted  to  point  out  to 
him  the  folly  of  going  on  in  his  old  insane  fashion,  but 
either  he  would  not  listen  or  something  interrupted  their 
conversation.  Now  she  determined  to  take  advantage  of 
the  present  opportunity  and  speak  seriouslj1-  with  him. 

"  I  have  brought  her  a  paper  of  Maillard's  sweet  things," 
said  Tom  ;  "  might  I  call  or  send  for  her  ?  " 

He  darted  towards  the  door  as  he  spoke,  but  Elizabeth 
stopped  him. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Tom,"  she  said  ;  "  come  back  here." 

"  Yes,  of  course  ;  I'll  be  back  in  a  flash — I'll  just  send 
her  these  traps,"  and  he  pulled  a  couple  of  tempting  pack 
ages  from  his  pocket,  nattily  tied  with  pink  ribbons  and 
got  up  generally  in  the  exquisite  taste  which  distinguishes 
everything  from  our  Frenchman's  establishment. 

"No,"  urged  Elizabeth,  "  come  here  first ;  I  have  some- 


232       MRS.      M  E  L  L  E  N      AND      HER      COUSIN. 

thing    to    say  to    you,   Tom — Elsie    can    eat    Ler    boubons 
after." 

Tom  came   back,  rather  unwillingly  though,  and  stood 
leaning  against  the  window  like  a  criminal. 
"  Sit  down,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  No,  no  !  I  like  to  stand  !     Well,  what  is  it,  Bessie  ?  " 
"  Tom,"  she  said,  seriously,   "  I  am  afraid  you  have  for 
gotten  the  experience  which  cost   you  so  much    pain  and 
drove  you  off  to  Europe  ;  I  fear  you  are  making  other  and 
deeper  trouble  for  yourself." 

"  Oh,  no,  Bessie  —  it's  of  no  consequence  any  way," 
returned  Tom,  turning  fifty  different  shades  of  red  at  once, 
"  What  a  pretty  green  that  silk  is." 

"  It  is  bright  blue,  but  no  matter !  So  you  wont  listen 
to  me,  Tom  ?  "  continued  Elizabeth. 

"  My  dear  girl,  did  I  ever  refuse  to  listen  in  all  my  life  !  " 
cried  Tom.  "  But  you  see,  you're  a  little  mistaken,  Bessie  ; 
I'm  not  such  a  goney  as  I  used  to  be." 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  has  ;  I  mean,  I  don't  allow  myself  to  be  such 
a  dunce,  even  in  my  own  thoughts.  I  never  even  think 
about — about — you  know  what  I  mean." 

Tom  broke  down  and  made  a  somewhat  lame  conclusion. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  Tom  !  "  Elizabeth  said. 

"  Well,  there  !  "  cried  he,  with  sudden  energy  ;  «  there  is 
no  use  in  standing  here  and  telling  you  fibs  !  I  do  love 
her— I  must  love  her— I  always  shall  love  her— han^  me 
if  I  shan't !  " 

He  was  in  a  state  of  great  agitation  now,  and  trembled 
all  over  as  if  he  had  been  addressing  Elsie  herself. 

Elizabeth  sighed  wearily. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  said  ;  «  I  feared  so." 

"  You  mean  the  dear  girl  will  never  care  for  me.  How 
could  any  one  expect  her  to — I  couldn't — 'tisn't  in  reason." 

"  Then,  Tom,  she  certainly  ought  not  to  treat  you  as  she 
does  and  lead  you  on." 


MRS.      MELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN.       233 


"  But  her  manner  does  not  forbid  your  attentions,  and 
you  are  too  worthy,  dear  cousin,  for  anything  but  honest 
dealing." 

"  It's  my  fault— all  my  fault." 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head. 

"  You  have  the  best  heart  and  the  worst  head  in  the 
world,"  said  she. 

"  You  musn't  blame  her,"  continued  Tom ;  "  I  can't 
stand  that !  Pitch  into  me  as  often  and  as  hard  as  you 
like,  you  never  can  say  enough,  but  don't  blame  her." 

"  Let  us  leave  her  share  in  the  matter,  then,  out  of  the 
question,"  continued  Elizabeth.  "  If  you  believe  what  you 
say,  is  it  wise  to  run  into  danger  as  you  do  ?  " 

"  There's  no  help  for  it,  Bessie  ;  I  should  die  if  I  could 
not  see  her  dear  little  face  !  Oh,  you  can't  think  what  I 
suffered  while  I  was  gone — I  didn't  talk  about  it — I  don't 
even  want  to  think  of  it ;  but,  Bessie,  dear,  sometimes  I 
used  to  think  I  should  go  out  of  1113^  senses." 

He  was  speaking  seriously  now  ;  his  face  was  absolutely 
pale  with  emotion,  and  his  eyes — the  one  fine  feature  of  his 
face — were  misty  with  a  remembrance  of  old  pain. 

"  Poor  Tom,"  murmured  Elizabeth,  in  her  pitying  way, 
always  full  of  sympathy  for  the  trouble  of  others,  whatever 
her  own  might  be  ;  "  poor,  dear  Torn,  I  know  how  hard  it 
is." 

"No;  you  can't  know,  Bessie;  you  can't  have  the  least 
idea  !  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  something  to  hide 
• — to  go  about  with  a  secret  gnawing  at  your  heart — never 
able  to  open  your  lips — suffering  night  and  day — " 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  at  his  cousin  with 
wonder;  she  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  her  face  was 
pale  as  death,  and  her  lips  parted  in  a  dreary  sigh. 

Tom  drew  close  to  her  chair  and  bent  over  her,  with  a 
look  of  anxious  surprise  on  his  disturbed  features. 


234       MRS.      M  ELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN. 

"  Are  you  sick,  Bessie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,  no,"  she  answered,  controlling  herself. 

His  words  brought  up  her  own  secret  burden  so  vividly 
before  her  that  for  an  instant  she  had  been  dreadfully  shaken. 

"  You  look  so  pale ;  I'm  afraid  you  are  going  to  be  ill." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not,"  she  answered. 

Tom  knelt  down  by  her  on  both  knees,  played  with  her 
embroidery  silks,  and  finally  said  : 

"  Bessie,  since  we're  talking  plainly,  may  I  say  some 
thing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Tom." 

"Somehow,  since  I  came  back  from  Europe,  you  don't 
seem  so  happy  as  you  used — maybe  it's  only  one  of  my 
blunders — but  I  have  thought  you  looked  troubled — like  a 
person  that  was  always  expecting  something  dreadful  to 
happen." 

She  forced  a  smile  upon  her  lips  and  then  compelled  them 
to  answer  him : 

"  Oh,  you  foolish  Tom  !  " 

"  Then  it  is  not  so ! "  he  urged.  "  You  are  not  un 
happy  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  be  unhappy-— is  not  my  life  pleasant,  pros 
perous  beyond  anything  I  could  ever  have  hoped  for?" 

"  It  seems  so  ;  that  made  me  think  it  must  be  just  one  of 
my  silly  fancies." 

"  Nothing  more,  Tom." 

"  Mellen's  the  most  splendid  fellow  in  the  world,"  pur 
sued  he  ;  "and  you  couldn't  well  be  sad  with  that  little 
darling  about  you." 

Elizabeth  took  up  her  silks  again. 

"Dismiss  all  such  thoughts  from  your  mind,  Tom." 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad.  But  tell  me  once  more  that  I 
am  an  over-anxious  busybody,  minding  everybody's  con 
cerns  but  my  own.  You  see,  Bessie,  I  love  you  like  a 
sister,  and  will  stand  by  you,  by  Jupiter,  always.  But 
these  stupid  ideas  of  mine,  there's  no  foundation  for  them  ?  " 


MRS.      MELLEN      AND      HER      COUSIN.       235 

"  How  could  there  be  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  say  to  myself  always,"  cried  Tom. 
"Well,  dear,  I  won't  think  such  nonsense  again." 

"Do  not,  I  beg;  and  never  mention  it  to  anybody." 

"  There's  no  danger  of  that,"  said  Tom.  "  But  you 
know,  if  you  should  get  unhappy  or  in  trouble,  there  is 
always  one  old  chap  you  could  lean  on." 

"  I  believe  that,  Tom  ;  I  do  indeed." 

"  And  you  would  come  to  me,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  If  you  could  help  me,  yes.  But  trouble  must  come  to 
all,  Tom  ;  and,  generally,  we  must  each  bear  our  burdens 
alone." 

"  How  sad  your  voice  sounds,  Bessie." 

She  made  an  effort  to  speak  playfully: 

"You  are  getting  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  fancies  in  your 
head  ;  don't  be  so  foolish." 

Tom  was  relieved  by  her  manner,  and  began  to  laugh 
at  his  own  ridiculous  mistakes,  rising  from  his  knees  and 
brushing  the  dust  away  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  My  head  is  a  poor  old  trap,"  he  said.  "  Well,  well,  I 
am  glad  you  are  happy — very  glad." 

"  And  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  Tom." 

"  I  am,  upon  my  word,  I  am  !  I  don't  allow  myself  to 
think  any  more  or  to  look  forward,  but  just  live  on,  glad 
to  be  in  the  sunshine.  'Tisn't  a  bad  world,  after  all,  Bess ; 
things  usually  come  right  in  the  end." 

If  she  could  only  believe  it — if  she  could  but  accept  his 
cheerful  philosophy  and  his  unwavering  trust;  but,  alas! 
the  sleepless  dread  at  her  heart  prevented  that. 

"  And  about  my  stupid  self,  Bessie,"  added  Tom. 

"  Yes,  about  your  dear,  good  self,"  answered  Elizabeth, 
glad  to  remove  the  subject  from  any  connection  with  her 
secret  dread. 

"And  my  useless  bits  of  affairs,"  pursued  Tom;  "just 
let  things  rest  as  they  are,  it's  the  best  way." 


236  LURED      INTO      DANGER. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  do  anything  to  annoy  you,"  she 
replied ;  "  and  you  know  very  well  I  am  the  last  person 
in  the  world  to  interfere " 

"Oh,  don't  talk  like  that,  or  I  shall  think  you  are 
offended." 

"Not  in  the  least,  Tom;  I  only  meant  to  say  that  it 
was  my  regard  for  your  happiness  that  made  me  speak." 

"I  know — I  feel  that,  Bessie;  but  just  let  things  go  on  ! 
Perhaps  I  am  asleep  and  dreaming,  hut  the  slumber  is 
pleasant,  so  don't  wake  me  ;  it's  cruel  kindness,  dear." 

Elizabeth  said  nothing  more ;  it  was  useless  to  pursue 
the  subject ;  where  Tom  was  concerned  she  saw  plainly 
that  it  could  do  no  good,  his  heart  was  fixed. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

LURED      INTO      DANGER. 

JUST  as  Elizabeth  was  thinking  over  this  conversation, 
and  giving  another  little  sigh  for  Tom  and  what  she 
feared  for  him,  a  blithe  young  voice  rang  in  the  hall, 
carolling  like  a  bird. 

"  There  she  is  !"  exclaimed  Torn. 

His  face  lighted  up,  his  whole  frame  seemed  to  expand 
with  delight.  Elizabeth  watched  him.  She  knew  better 
than  ever  that  his  heartstrings  were  twined  about  that 
young  creature,  that  his  very  soul  had  gone  out  in  worship 
at  her  feet. 

"  And  where  are  you  hidden,  Lady  Bess  ?  "  sang  Elsie, 


Tom  rushed  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open,  upsetting 
the  table  again,  and  this  time  leaving  Elizabeth  to  pick 
it  up  herself. 


LURED      INTO      DANGER.  237 

"Here  she  is,  my  fairy  princess!"  he  called,  standing 
in  the  doorway  and  looking  up  at  her  as  she  paused  on 
the  stairs. 

"  In  that  dismal  den  and  guarded  by  a  dragon,"  cried 
Elsie,  peeping  at  him  through  the  banisters,  mischievously. 
"  Pray  where  did  you  come  from,  Coeur  de  Lion  ?  " 

"  If  you  knew  what  I  had  brought  for  my  lady-bird,  yon 
would  be  on  your  prettiest  behavior  and  give  me  your  best 
welcome,"  said  Torn. 

"  It's  bonbons  ! "  cried  Elsie  with  a  shriek  of  delight. 
"The  ogre  means  pralines  and  caramels  and  marons 
glace's!" 

"  Come  down  and  see,"  said  Tom,  mysteriously. 

Elsie  danced  downstairs  and  entered  the  room  where  her 
sister  sat. 

"  Ugh,  the  ugly  place ! "  said  she.  "  It  makes  me 
shiver ! » 

"  Better  come  into  the  den  than  lose  the  sweets,"  said 
Tom,  opening  the  papers  and  pretending  to  eat  greedily. 

"  He  won't  leave  a  drop  !  "  cried  Elsie,  darting  upon  him. 

Tom  prolonged  the  playful  struggle  artfully  enough  ;  and 
when  a  truce  was  concluded  it  was  only  on  condition  that 
he  should  feed  her  with  the  sugarplums,  and  as  he  did  not 
satisfy  her  greediness  fast  enough,  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
sport  and  laughter  between  the  pair. 

Elizabeth  sat  in  the  window  and  watched  them,  sighing 
sometimes  and  regarding  Elsie  with  a  strange  pain  in  her 
eyes,  as  if  annoyed  and  troubled  that  the  happy  creature 
could  not  leave  her  the  full  aifection  of  this  one  heart. 

"  I  want  to  go  out  on  the  water,"  said  Elsie.  "  Will  you 
take  me,  you  ugly  giant  ?  " 

"  Won't  I !  "  said  Tom.  "  I'd  take  you  to  the  moon  if 
you  liked." 

"  But  I  don't  wish  to  try  the  moon,  thank  you ;  a  nice 
long  row  will  satisfj-  me.  Come  along,  Bessie  ! " 


238  LURED      INTO      DANGER. 

"  Not  to-day,"  answered  Elizabeth  coldly. 

"  You're  a  hateful,  poky  thing  !  "  cried  Elsie.  "  Well,  I 
shall  go,  the  sun  is  lovely." 

"  I'll  run  down  to  the  shore  and  get  the  hoat  ready/'  said 
Tom,  ecstatically. 

He  darted  away,  and  Elsie  stood  for  a  few  moments  crush 
ing  the  candies  between  her  white  teeth  and  looking  at 
Elizabeth,  half  frightened,  half  defiant. 

"  You  are  very  busy,"  said  she. 

<*  One  can't  be  idle,"  replied  Elizabeth. 

"  Oh,  can't  one  ?     It  just  suits  me,  thank  you." 

"  Elsie,"  said  her  sister,  suddenly,  "  I  want  to  say  some 
thing." 

"If  it  is  anything  unpleasant,  I  won't  hear.  I  won't 
hear.  I  want  to  be  happy.  Let  me  alone  !  " 

"It  is  about  yourself ;  don't  be  alarmed." 

"  Well,  say  it ;  but  you  are  going  to  scold  or  something 
else  dreadful,  I  know  by  your  voice." 

"  Don't  be  such  a  baby,"  said  Elizabeth,  impatiently. 

"  There  !  I  knew  you  were  cross  !  How  can  I  help  being 
a  baby  ?  I  like  it,  and  I  will  be  one." 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  acting  honestly  with  Tom  ?  " 
said  Elizabeth. 

"I'm  not  acting  at  all,"  replied  Elsie  fretfully.  "I 
can't  help  his  coming  here  constantly.  You  wouldn't  have 
me  rude  to  your  own  cousin  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  He  loves  you,  in  spite  of 
your  conduct  before  he  went  abroad " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  Elsie  broke  in  again.  "  If  people  will 
fall  in  love  with  me  it's  their  own  fault  ;  I  don't  ask  them." 

"  But  you  can  help  encouraging  him  and  leading  him  on 
to  greater  pain." 

Elsie  pouted. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  shall  ?  " 

"  You  would  not  marry  him,"  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  sud 
denly.  "  You — you — you '; 


LURED      INTO      DANGEH.  239 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it.  Let  Tom  and  me 
alone.  I  think  you  are  growing  a  cross  old  thing.'1 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  do  be  serious  for  one  moment." 

"Let  me  alone  !  "  she  repeated.  "You  are  always  spoil 
ing  my  sunshine.  I  believe  you  hate  me  !  " 

"  Don't  talk  so  wildly,  Elsie.  But  you  cannot  blame  me 
for  being  anxious  about  Tom's  happiness." 

"  And,  pray,  should  I  make  him  wretched  if  I  married 
him  ?"  she  exclaimed  defiantly. 

"  You  won't  do  that.     You " 

"  I'll  do  what  I  please  ;  and  don't  you  meddle  with  me, 
just  remember  that !  " 

The  voice  was  sharp  and  unlike  Elsie's  usual  tone,  but 
she  quickly  resumed  her  childish  manner,  and  added  : 

"  I'll  be  good — don't  scold.  There,  I'm  going  now — 
good-bye  ! " 

She  danced  out  of  the  room  and  through  the  house,  and 
Elizabeth  heard  her  voice  on  the  lawn,  calling  to  Tom,  to 
know  if  the  boat  was  ready. 

Elizabeth  kept  her  seat,  looking  absently  across  the 
water.  Presently  she  saw  the  little  skiff  shoot  out  from 
the  shore,  under  the  impetus  of  Tom's  muscular  arms,  while 
Elsie  leaned  back  in  the  stern,  wrapped  in  a  pale  blue 
shawl,  and  reminding  Elizabeth  of  the  old  German  legend 
of  the  Lurlei. 

She  sat  there  a  long  time,  with  her  former  mournful 
thoughts  all  trooping  back,  like  ravens  to  a  desolated  nest. 
The  gloom  upon  her  spirits  waxed  deeper,  and  the  chill 
that  had  begun  during  the  past  days  to  creep  about  her 
heart  tightened  and  grew  cold,  as  if  it  were  changing  to  an 
icy  band,  which  would  freeze  her  pulses  in  its  tightening 
clasp.  She  looked  out  through  the  sunshine,  watching  the 
light  boat  till  it  became  a  mere  speck  in  the  distance,  and 
finally  disappeared  among  the  windings  of  the  long  curve 
of  land  which  stretched  out  into  the  ocean. 


240  LURED      INTO      DANGER. 

Thinking,  thinking,  always  the  same  dreary  round,  till 
she  groTO  so  weary  with  the  ceaseless  anxiety,  the  constant 
necessity  for  plots  and  plans,  the  need  of  reflection,  even,  in 
slightest  act,  and,  worse  than  all,  the  sleepless  fear  of  dis 
covery  which  hovered  over  her,  asleep  or  awake,  that  it 
seemed  sometimes  that  she  could  no  longer  uphold  the 
burthen,  but  must  allow  it  to  fall  and  crush  her. 

The  afternoon  was  passing,  but  the  little  boat  had  not 
yet  appeared  in  sight  again.  There  was  no  danger  that 
Tom  would  think  of  fatigue  while  he  could  sit  looking  in 
the  face  of  his  syren,  listening  to  her  low,  sweet  songs ; 
nor  was  there  the  slightest  possibility  of  her  ever  remem 
bering  that  the  strongest  muscles  must  at  last  feel  a  little 
need  of  relaxation.  Just  as  long  as  it  pleased  her  to  float 
over  the  sunlit  waters,  carolling  her  pretty  melodies  or 
talking  gay  nonsense  to  Tom,  and  blinding  him  utterly  with 
the  wicked  lightning  of  her  eyes,  she  would  think  of  noth 
ing  else. 

At  last  Mr.  Mellen's  step  sounded  in  the  hall.  Eliza 
beth  heard  it,  and  immediately  gathered  up  her  embroidery 
silks,  making  a  great  pretence  of  being  busy,  lest  he  should 
enter  suddenly,  and  pierce  her  with  one  of  his  dark,  suspi 
cious  glances,  which  made  her  heart  actually  stand  still 
with  apprehension. 

He  came  on  towards  the  room,  looked  in  at  the  door%  and 
saw  his  wife  sitting  there  apparently  quiet,  comfortable,  and 
wholly  occupied  with  her  pretty  task. 

She  glanced  up  and  nodded  a  welcome. 

"  So  you  have  come  back,"  she  said  ;  "  I  have  been  wish 
ing  for  you." 

He  smiled,  came  forward  and  stood  by  her,  saying : 

"  I  thought  you  had  given  up  any  such  weakness.  You 
seem  very  busy." 

"  This  tiresome  embroidery  has  been  lying  about  so  long 
that  I  am  working  on  it  for  very  shame,"  she  replied. 


LURED      INTO      DANGER.  241 

"  Elsie  began  it  and  was  delighted  with  it  for  three  days, 
but  she  has  not  touched  it  since." 

"  Very  like  the  little  fairy,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  any 
reference  to  the  young  girl  always  brought  to  his  lips. 

Elizabeth  did  not  wish  to  talk,  it  was  important  that  she 
should  hide  the  real  feelings  that  oppressed  her  even  under 
an  appearance  of  playfulness.  She  looked  up  and  smiled : 

"  If  you  were  good-natured  you  would  sit  down  here  and 
read  to  me.  There  is  Bulwer's  new  book." 

"  I  will,  with  pleasure ;  but  where  is  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Tom  Fuller  came,  and  she  made  him  take  her  out 
for  a  row ;  so  I  have  been  alone  in  my  den,  as  she  calls  it." 

"  The  child  can't  bear  the  least  approach  to  a  shadow," 
he  said  ;  "  she  must  have  her  sunshine  undisturbed." 

He  drew  an  easy  chair  near  the  window  where  Elizabeth 
sat,  took  up  the  novel  she  had  asked  him  to  read,  and  began 
the  splendid  story. 

He  read  beautifully,  and  Elizabeth  was  glad  to  forget 
her  unquiet  reflections  in  the  melody  of  his  voice  and  the 
rare  interest  of  the  tale.  Mellen  himself  was  in  a  mood  to 
be  comfortable  and  at  rest. 

The  brightness  of  the  sunset  was  flooding  the  waters 
before  either  of  them  looked  up  again.  Then  Mellen 
said : 

"  Those  careless  creatures  ought  to  come  back ;  itgrows 
chilly  on  the  water  as  evening  comes  on,  and  tBe^Rhfcfc 
thing  gives  Elsie  cold."  , 

Elizabeth  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  looked  over 
the  bay.  I* 

"  They  are  coming,"  she  said  ;  "  I  Jvsee  them." 

Mellen  leaked  in  the  direction  to  wfnch  she  pointed,  and 
saw  the  boat  rounding  a  point  of  land  and  making  swiftly 
up  the  bay. 

"  Tom  is  as  strong  as  a  young  Hercules,"  he  said,  watch 
ing  the  little  skiff  as  it  fairly  flew  through  the  water  under 
15 


242  LURED      INTO      DANGER. 

the  impulse  of  that  powerful  arm,  and  aided  by  the  inward 
rush  of  the  tide. 

They  remained  watching  it  till  it  approached  near 
enough  for  them  to  distinguish  Elsie's  white  wrappings. 
Suddenly  Mellen  said : 

"  She  is  rocking  the  boat  dreadfully  !  She  is  standing 
up — The  girl  is  crazy  to  run  such  risks  !  " 

Elizabeth  looked  and  saw  Elsie  erect  in  the  skiff,  her 
shawl  floating  around  her,  rocking  the  boat  to  and  fro  with 
reckless  force,  while  she  could  see  by  Tom's  gestures  that 
he  was  vainly  expostulating  with  her  -upon  her  impru 
dence. 

Mellen  went  into  the  hall  and  out  on  the  veranda,  with 
some  vague  idea  of  trying  to  attract  the  imprudent  girl's 
attention  by  signals  ;  but  the  skiff  was  far  off,  and  Elsie 
too  much  occupied  to  observe  them. 

Elizabeth  threw  down  her  work  and  followed  him,  stand 
ing  by  his  side  in  silent  apprehension. 

"  She  is  mad  !  "  exclaimed  Mellen,  "  absolutely  mad  !  " 

Elsie's  gay  laugh  rang  over  the  waters,  and  they  could 
see  Tom  expostulating  with  more  animated  gestures. 

"  She  will  fall  overboard,  as  sure  as  fate  !  "  cried  Mellen. 
«  Oh  !  ELsie,  Elsie  !  " 

But  the  exclamation  could  not  reach  the  reckless  crea 
ture  ;  probably  she  would  have  paid  no  attention  had  she 
heard  it. 

"  Oh,  see  how  it  rocks  !  "  cried  Elizabeth  with  a  shiver. 

"  She  is  frightened  at  her  own  recklessness,"  said  Mel 
len,  "but  will  not  stop,  because  it  disturbs  Tom." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  less  danger  than  we  think,"  began 
Elizabeth,  but  a  cry  from  her  husband  checked  the  words. 

She  looked — the  boat  had  tipped  till  the  edge  was  even 
with  the  water ;  suddenly  Elsie  tottered,  lost  her  balance 
—there  was  a  smothered  shriek  from  the  distance — then 
she  disappeared  under  the  crested  waves. 


THE      AFTER      STRUGGLE.  243 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE      AFTER      STRUGGLE. 

MELLEN  sprang  down  the  steps  and  rushed  across  the 
lawn,  with  some  inad  idea  of  trying  to  rescue  his  sister; 
and,  following  as  well  as  her  trembling  limbs  would  permit, 
Elizabeth  saw  Tom  throw  off  his  coat  and  plunge  into  the 
water. 

"  He  will  save  her  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  he  will  save  her  !  " 

Mellen  only  answered  by  a  groan  ;  he  was  looking  wildly 
about  for  a  boat,  but  there  was  none  in  sight ;  thus  power 
less  to  aid  his  darling — he  could  only  stand  and  watch  the 
struggles  of  another  to  rescue  her  from  that  death  peril. 
They  saw  an  object  rise  above  the  waves — saw  Tom  swim 
towards  it — seize  it — he  had  caught  the  girl  in  his  arms. 
The  couple  on  the  lawn  could  neither  move  nor  cry  out ; 
but  stood  in  breathless  expectation,  and  watched  him  sup 
port  his  burthen  with  one  arm,  while  with  the  other  he 
swam  towards  the  skiff,  which  the  tide  was  bearing  in  to 
wards  the  shore.  It  was  a  long  pull ;  they  could  see  that 
he  began  to  falter  after  his  exertions  in  rowing ;  a  deathly 
fear  crept  over  both  those  hearts,  but  they  did  not  speak — 
scarcely  breathed. 

Suddenly  an  outgoing  wave  washed  the  helpless  girl  from 
Tom's  grasp ;  she  was  sinking  again.  Strong  man  as  he 
was,  Grantley  Mellen's  courage  gave  way  ;  then  covering 
his  face  with  his  hands  he  sallied  back,  resting  against  a  tree, 
afraid  to  look  again.  White  and  cold,  Elizabeth  watched 
the  boat  drift  one  way,  and  saw  Tom  snatch  at  the  girl's 
dress  and  get  her  again  in  the  grasp  of  his  strong  arm. 

"  He  has  caught  her  ! "  she  gasped.  "  He  has  almost 
reached  the  boat.  Grantley  !  Grantley  !  she  is  safe  !  " 

looked  up.     Tom  had  just  put  his  hand  on  the 


244  THE     AFTER     STRUGGLE. 

side  of  the  skiff,  and  was  lifting  Elsie  in.  It  was  evidently 
the  last  effort  of  his  mighty  strength,  for  he  floated  for  some 
distance,  holding  on  to  the  boat  before  he  had  power  to 
attempt  more.  The  husband  and  wife  watched  him  while 
he  got  into  the  boat  himself,  lifted  Elsie's  head  on  his  knee, 
and  allowed  the  tide  almost  entirely  to  wash  them  towards 
the  beach. 

As  they  approached  the  bank  Elsie  began  to  recover  con 
sciousness.  As  Tom  took  her  in  his  arms  and  sprang  with 
a  staggering  bound  on  shore,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  saw 
her  brother  and  Elizabeth. 

"  I'm  safe,"  she  said,  faintly,  "  quite  safe.  Don't  be 
afraid." 

It  was  not  a  moment  for  many  words.  With  an  exclam 
ation  of  thankfulness,  Mellen  snatched  Elsie  from  Tom's 
arms  and  carried  her  into  the  house.  In  a  few  moments 
their  united  exertions  brought  the  reckless  girl  completely 
to  herself.  She  looked  up  and  saw  the  anxious  faces  bent 
over  her. 

"  Don't  scold,"  she  cried,  "  Tom  saved  me,  Grant,  Tom 
saved  me  ! " 

Mellen  grasped  Fuller's  hands. 

"  I  can't  thank  you,  I  can't,"  he  said.  "  God  bless  you, 
my  friend." 

Tom  was  shaking  from  head  to  foot,  his  drenched  gar 
ments  dripping  like  a  river  god's,  but  he  answered  as  soon 
as  his  chattering  teeth  would  permit : 

"  Don't  say  a  word.  I'd  have  drowned  myself,  if  I  hadn't 
saved  her." 

Elizabeth  insisted  upon  Elsie's  being  carried  upstairs  to 
her  room,  and  sent  Tom  off  to  change  his  dress ;  luckily, 
in  his  frequent  visits,  he  had  always  forgotten  some  por 
tion  of  his  baggage,  so  dry  clothes  were  found  in  his  room. 

Before  Mellen  had  recovered  from  the  shock  sufficiently 
to  be  at  all  composed,  Elsie  was  dressed  and  lying  on  the 


THE      AFTER      STRUGGLE.  245 

sofa  in  her  own  room,  quite  restored,  with  the  exception  of 
her  unusual  pallor.  She  had  been  wrapped  in  a  rose-colored 
morning  robe,  trimmed  with  swansdown,  and  lay  in  delicate 
relief  on  the  blue  couch  of  her  boudoir.  Mellen  was  bend 
ing  over  her  and  holding  her  hands,  as  if  he  feared  to  let 
her  free  for  an  instant ;  while  Elizabeth  stood  near,  finding 
time,  now  that  her  labors  were  over,  to  watch  her  husband 
and  wonder  if  danger  to  her  would  have  brought  a  pang  like 
this  to  his  heart, 

"  I  am  quite  well  now,'*  said  Elsie,  "  and  I  didn't  feel 
much  frightened." 

"  Oh,  child  ! "  said  her  brother,  "  promise  me  never  to 
run  such  risks  again." 

"  But  you  mustn't  scold,"  she  pleaded ;  "  think  of  the 
danger  I  was  in  !  Oh !  it  was  horrible  to  feel  the  water 
closing  over  my  head — to  go  down — down  !  " 

"Don't  think  of  it,"  cried  Elizabeth,  making  a  sudden 
effort  to  change  the  conversation,  from  a  fear  that  dwelling 
upon  the  danger  which  she  had  incurred  might  bring  on 
one  of  Elsie's  nervous  attacks. 

"  No,"  added  Mellen  ;  "  it  is  all  over  now,  quite  over— 
don't  think  of  it  any  more." 

"  You  look  pale,  Grant." 

"  ISTo  wonder,  no  wonder  !  " 

The  girl  gave  him  one  of  her  wilful  smiles. 

"  Perhaps  I  tried  the  experiment  to  see  how  much  you 
loved  me?" 

Mellen  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  rested  her  head  upon 
his  shoulder,  while  many  emotions  struggled  across  his 
face. 

"Child!"  he  said,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  "you  knew 
before — you  have  always  known.  My  mother's  treasure — • 
my  pride — my  blessing  !  " 

There  Elizabeth  stood,  forgotten,  disregarded  —  so  it 
seemed  to  her ;  but  she  made  no  sign  which  could  betray 
the  bitter  anguish  at  her  heart. 


246  THE      AFTER      STRUGGLE. 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  That's  Tom  Fuller,"  said  Elsie  ;  "  tell  him  to  come  in, 
Bessie." 

Mellen  started  up  and  opened  the  door  himself.  There 
stood  Tom,  clad  in  dry  garments,  but  still  greatly  agitated. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  he  asked.     "  Is  she  better  ?  " 

"  You  have  saved  her  life  ! "  exclaimed  Mellen,  grasp 
ing  his  two  hands  ;  "  you  have  saved  her  life  ! " 

"  But  is  she  better  ?"  he  repeated,  quite  too  anxious  for 
any  thought  of  the  credit  due  himself,  and  too  unselfish 
to  desire  it  even  if  he  had  remembered. 

"  Come  in  and  see,"  called  Elsie,  in  a  tender  voice  from 
her  sofa. 

Tom  brushed  by  Mellen,  and  down  he  went  on  his  knees 
by  the  couch,  exclaiming: 

"  She  looks  all  right  now.     Oh,  thank  God  ! " 

Mellen  had  been  too  profoundly  disturbed  himself  for 
conjecture  regarding  this  passionate  outburst;  to  him  it 
seemed  natural  that  every  one  should  be  agitated,  and 
Elsie  soon  brought  them  back  to  safer  commonplaces  by 
her  gajTety,  which  not  even  the  peril  from  which  she  had 
been  so  recently  rescued  could  entirely  subdue. 

"  I  declare,  Tom,"  said  she,  "  you  are  useful  in  a  house 
hold  located  near  the  water,  as  a  Newfoundland  dog." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  laugh,"  cried  Tom. 

"  But  you  must !  "  said  the  wilful  creature.  "  You  will 
not  put  on  long  faces  because  I  am  saved,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Elsie,"  said  her  brother,  "you  ought  to  sleep  awhile ; 
Torn  and  I  will  go  out." 

"  No,  no,"  she  persisted,  "  I  am  not  in  the  least  sleepy 
— you  must  not  go  away — I  shall  only  get  nervous  if  you 
leave  me  alone;  I  shall  be  quite  well  by  dinner-time. 
Tom  Fuller,  don't  go  ! " 

They  did  not  oppose  her;  every  one  there  knew  that  it 
was  of  no  use,  for  in  the  end  they  would  surely  yield  to 
her  caprices. 


THE      AFTER      STRUGGLE.  247 

"  I  haven't  thanked  you  yet.  Tom,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  know  what  there  is  to  thank  me  Lor." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Elsie  ;  "  so  you  don't  think  my  life  of 
enough  importance  to  have  the  saving  of  it  a  matter  of 
consequence  ?" 

"  You  know  that  wasn't  what  I  meant,"  said  Tom,  rub 
bing  his  damp  hair  with  one  hand. 

"You  are  too  bad,"  said  Mellen,  laughing,  "too  bad, 
Elsie." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  tease  him  more  than  ever."  replied 
Elsie  ;  "  he  will  grow  conceited  if  I  don't.  Tell  him  how 
much  you  like  me  to  tease  you,  old  Tom." 

"Well,"  said  he,  a  little  ruefully,  "you  have  always 
done  it,  and  I  suppose  you  always  will — I  shouldn't  think  it 
was  you  if  you  stopped  now." 

Even  Elizabeth  laughed,  and  Elsie  said : 

"  There,  there,  old  Tom,  don't  get  sentimental.  Perhaps 
I'll  be  goodnatured  for  three  days  by  way  of  reward  for 
pulling  me  out  of  the  water." 

"I'd  like  to  save  your  life  every  day  in  the  week  at 
that  rate,"  cried  Tom  in  ecstasy. 

"  No,  no  !  "  added  Mellen  ;  "  I  think  one  such  exploit  is 
quite  enough." 

Elsie  seized  Tom's  hand,  and  said  with  real  feeling : 

"  Tom,  I  do  thank  you — I  can't  tell  you  how  much." 

"  Don't,  don't ! "  he  pleaded.  "  If  you  say  another  word 
I'll  run  off  and  never  show  my  face  again." 

Elsie  began  to  laugh  once  more,  and  the  lingering  trace 
of  seriousness  died  quite  out  of  her  face. 

"  Tom  is  good  at  a  catastrophe,"  said  she,  "but  he  can't 
carry  on  the  blank  verse  proper  to  the  after  situation." 

"  Blank  enough  it  would  he,"  rejoined  Tom,  and  then  he 
was  so  much  astonished  to  find  that  he  had  made  a  sort  of 
joke,  that  the  idea  covered  him  with  fresh  confusion. 

Elsie's  disaster  passed  off  without  dangerous  consequences 


248  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

to  the  reckless  girl,  and  she  had  half  forgotten  the  occur 
rence  long  before  Mellen  recovered  composure  enough  to 
thank,  with  sufficient  fervor,  the  noble-hearted  man  who  had 
saved  her  life. 

From  that  day  Tom  Fuller  took  a  place  in  Mellen's 
esteem  which  he  had  never  held  before ;  his  gratitude  was 
unbounded,  and  as  he  learned  to  know  and  appreciate  the 
young  man,  he  found  a  thousand  noble  qualities  to  admire 
under  that  rugged  exterior.  And  as  Elsie  softened  into 
gentler  earnestness,  and  drew  closer  to  him  day  by  day, 
Tom  became  so  completely  engrossed  in  his  happy  love- 
dream  that  he  had  not  a  single  thought  beyond  it.  In  her 
loneliness  and  her  anxieties  which  separated  her  so  com 
pletely  from  those  three  hearts,  Elizabeth  Mellen  watched, 
sighed  sometimes,  whispering  to  herself: 

"  She  has  taken  even  Tom  from  me.  I  have  nothing  left 
— husband — relative — all,  all  abandon  me  for  her." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A     HALF     UNDERSTANDING. 

ELSIE  was  twenty  now,  but  looking  younger  from  her 
fragile  form  and  the  extreme  delicacy  of  her  complexion. 
The  reader  knows  how  winsome  and  playful  her  manners 
were  ;  how  she  was  loved  and  cherished  by  her  brother,  and 
it  seemed  hard  that  a  creature  like  her,  so  innocent  and  win 
some,  should  have  even  a  knowledge  of  the  secret  which 
oppressed  Elizabeth.  It  seemed  to  prove  more  depth  of 
character  than  one  would  have  expected,  that  she  was  in 
any  way  able  or  willing  to  help  her  sister-in-law  to  bear  her 
secret  burthen,  let  that  burthen  be  what  it  might. 

The  vague  thoughts  which  had  troubled  Grantley  Mellen 


A     HALF     UNDERSTANDING.  249 

on  the  night  of  his  arrival,  had  died  out.  On  calm  reflection 
he  could  understand  that  it  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
restrained  intensity  of  Elizabeth's  nature,  that  the  very 
violence  of  the  storm  should  have  forced  her  into  it.  That 
the  sudden  sound  of  his  voice  and  step  should  have  brought 
on  the  nervous  weakness  to  which  she  so  seldom  gave  way, 
was  equally  natural  after  so  much  excitement. 

Then  Elsie  came  back  so  blithe  and  blooming,  brought  so 
much  sunshine  into  the  house,  and  drew  them  both  so  much 
into  her  amusements,  that  the  first  days  of  Mellen's  return 
were  pleasant  indeed. 

The  weather  had  been  delightful ;  they  enjoyed  rides  and 
drives,  moonlight  excursions  upon  the  water ;  there  had 
been  visits  to  receive  and  return  among  neighbors  and 
friends;  people  had  heard  of  Mellen's  return,  and  came  un 
invited  from  New  York,  bringing  all  that  festal  bustle  and 
change  which  puts  holidays  every  now  and  then  into  the 
ordinary  routine  of  our  lives. 

The  first  days  passed  and  still  the  sky  was  unclouded. 
Grantley  Melleu  began  to  think  that  he  was  at  last  to  be 
happy,  and  grew  cheerful  with  the  thought.  So  for  a  time 
love  cast  out  all  fear  in  the  husband's  heart. 

There  had  been  no  further  return  of  that  inexplicable 
nervousness  in  Elizabeth ;  the  strained,  anxious  look  almost 
entirely  left  her  face ;  she  was  even  more  lively  than  was 
customary  with  her.  It  was  not  that  the  fear  and  drend 
had  left  her  mind,  but  she  was  on  her  guard,  and  there  was 
a  reticence  and  strength  in  her  character  which  even  those 
who  knew  her  best  did  not  fully  understand.  A  stern, 
settled  purpose  would  keep  her  through  her  course,  what 
ever  might  lie  behind. 

During  those  happy  days  there  had  been  no  more  confi 
dences  between  her  and  Elsie  ;  indeed  it  seemed  almost  as 
if  Elizabeth  avoided  the  girl — not  in  a  way  to  be  noticed 
even  by  Mellen's  quick  eyt-s — if  it  was  so,  Elsie  on  her  side 


250  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

did  not  attempt  to  break  through  these  little  restraints 
that  had  fallen  around  them.  It  was  natural  that  she 
should  be  glad  to  escape  from  the  gloom  which  surrounded 
Elizabeth,  and  in  this  respect  the  fickleness  of  her  character 
was  fortunate ;  from  her  lack  of  concentrativeness,  the  girl 
was  able  to  throw  off  any  trouble  the  moment  its  actual 
danger  was  removed  from  her  path. 

Thus  the  first  days  had  passed,  allowing  them  to  settle 
down  into  tolerable  quiet,  but  not  too  much  of  it,  for  Elsie 
could  not  endure  that.  Society  was  her  element ;  trifle  and 
champagne  seemed  her  natural  nourishment,  and  she 
drooped  so  quickly  if  compelled  to  seclusion,  that,  with  his 
usual  weakness  where  she  was  concerned,  Mellen  relin 
quished  his  own  desires  to  gratify  her  caprices. 

You  may  think  this  not  in  keeping  with  his  character 
and  habits,  but  reflect  a  little  and  you  will  see  that  it  was 
perfectly  natural.  The  promise  which  he  had  made  to  his 
mother  was  always  in  his  mind ;  he  never  forgot  his  fears 
for  Elsie's  health ;  she  was  more  like  a  daughter  than  a 
sister  to  him,  and  her  very  childishness  was  a  great  charm 
to  a  man  of  his  grave  nature.  The  very  servants  delighted 
in  waiting  on  her,  though  her  requirements  were  numer 
ous  ;  but  they  did  it  all  willingly,  and  put  a  great  deal 
more  heart  into  her  service  than  they  ever  exhibited  in 
obeying  Elizabeth's  moderate  and  reasonable  requests. 
They  mistook  Mrs.  Mellen's  quiet  manners  for  pride,  and 
held  her  in  slight  favor  in  consequence ;  so  dazzled  by 
Elsie's  manner,  that  when  she  gave  them  a  cast-off  gar 
ment  or  a  worthless  ornament,  it  seemed  a  much  greater 
boon  than  the  real  kindness  Elizabeth  invariably  displayed 
when  they  were  in  sickness  or  trouble. 

Elizabeth  humored  her  sister  in  law  with  the  rest,  but 
there  was  a  soreness  at  her  heart  all  the  while ;  for  some 
times  when  she  saw  this  young  creature  clinging  about 
her  husband,  her  face  wore  the  strange  expression  it  had 
done  while  she  watched  their  meeting  after  his  return. 


A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING.  251 

The  domestic  life  at  Piney  Cove  was  nearly  happiness 
at  this  time.  But  for  Elizabeth's  hidden  anxieties,  Mel- 
len's  return  would  have  made  that  old  house  almost  like 
heaven.  As  it  was,  this  haunted  woman  would  sometimes 
forget  her  causes  of  dread,  and  break  out  into  gleams  of 
loving  cheerfulness  in  spite  of  them. 

After  the  night  on  which  the  bracelet  was  lost,  the  sun 
shine  which  had  brightened  the  little  household  at  Piney 
Cove  was  dimmed  by  a  thousand  intangible  shadows.  In 
spite  of  all  his  efforts,  Grantley  Mellen's  suspicions  were 
aroused  and  kept  on  the  alert,  searching  for  proofs  that 
could  only  bring  unhappiness  when  found. 

You  would  not  have  said  that  he  was  suffering  from 
jealousy;  there  was  nothing  upon  which  his  mind  settled 
itself  that  gave  rise  to  that  feeling,  but  he  fretted  abso 
lutely  because  he  had  no  power  to  discover  every  thought 
of  Elizabeth's  soul  during  his  absence.  Then  as  he  re 
flected  upon  the  mystery  connected  with  his  arrival,  came 
up  afresh  the  disappearance  of  the  bracelet,  and  he  lost 
himself  in  a  maze  of  irritating  conjecture,  of  which  his 
fine  judgment  often  grew  ashamed. 

Elizabeth  wore  her  old  proud  look  for  several  days  after 
the  night  of  the  dinner-party.  Grantley  felt  that  the  ice 
of  the  past  was  freezing  between  them  once  more,  and  the 
idea  caused  him  acute  pain. 

He  sat  watching  her  one  day  as  she  bent  over  her 
needlework,  talking  a  little  at  intervals,  listening  occasion 
ally  to  passages  from  his  book  ;  oftener  sitting  there  with 
her  fingers  moving  hurriedly,  as  if  she  were  pressed  for 
time,  but  her  anxious  face  proving  how  far  from  this  occu 
pation  her  thoughts  had  wandered. 

More  than  once  Mellen  saw  the  dark  brows  contract  as 
if  under  actual  distress,  and  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  and 
seemed  wholly  absorbed  in  his  book,  he  could  see  that  her 
TO'^  Tie  became  more  absorbing  and  painful. 


252  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

"  Elizabeth  !  "  he  said  suddenly. 

His  wife  started.  In  her  preoccupation  she  had  forgotten 
that  he  was  in  the  room — forgotten  that  she  was  not  alone 
with  those  dark  reflections  which  cast  their  shadow  over  her 
face. 

"  Did  you  speak,  Grantley  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  how  you  started  !  " 

"Did  I  start?"  she  asked,  trying  to  laugh.     "I  don't 
know  how  it  is  that  I  grow  so  nervous." 
"You  never  were  so  afflicted  formerly." 

"  No ;  I  don't  remember,"  she  replied  quickly.  "  Bufc 
you  know  I  had  a  good  deal  of  care  and  responsibility  dur 
ing  your  absence ;  it  may  be  that  which  has  shaken  me  a 
little." 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

She  shot  one  glance  of  indignant  pride  at  him  ;  for  an 
instant  she  looked  inclined  to  leave  the  room,  as  had  fre 
quently  been  her  habit  during  the  first  months  of  their 
marriage,  when  he  irritated  her  beyond  endurance. 

But  if  Elizabeth  had  the  inclination  she  controlled  it. 
After  a  moment's  silence  she  laid  down  her  work  and 
approached  the  sofa  where  he  was  lying. 

"  Don't  be  severe  with  me,  Grantley,"  she  said,  with  a 
degree  of  humility  unknown  to  the  past ;  "  my  head  aches 
drearily — I  don't  think  I  am  well." 

His  feelings  changed  as  he  looked  at  her;  she  was  not 
well ;  he  could  see  the  traces  of  pain  in  the  languid  eyes 
and  the  contracted  forehead,  but  whether  the  suffering  was 
mental  or  physical  even  a  physiognomist  could  not  have 
told. 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  drew  her  towards  him  ;  she 
sat  down  on  the  sofa  and  leaned  her  head  against  his  shoul 
der  with  a  little  sigh  of  weariness. 

"  I  can  rest  here/7  she  whispered  j  "  it  is  my  place,  isn't 
it,  Grantley  ?  " 


A     HA'LF      UNDERSTANDING.  253 

There  was  tender,  almost  childish  pleading  in  her  voice  .? 
he  lifted  her  face,  looked  into  her  eyes  and  saw  tears  there. 
"  What  is  it,  Bessie  ?  "  he  asked.     "  Have  I  hurt  you  ?  " 
The  recollection  of  all  the  doubts  and  suspicious  thoughts 
which  had  been  in  his  mind  came  back,  and  forgetful  of  his 
idea    that   some   recent  anxiety  made   the  change  in    her 
manner,    he   reproached   himself    with    having   brought   a 
cloud  between  them  by  his  own  actions. 

"  Have  I  pained  you  in  anything,  Bessie?"  he  repeated. 

"  I  feared  the  old  trouble  was  coming  back/'  she  whis 
pered. 

"  No,  no ;  it  must  not,  it  shall  not,  Bessie !  I  am  to 
blame — but  if  you  knew7  what  this  wretched  disposition 
makes  me  suffer !  Every  heart  I  trusted  in  my  early  life 
deceived  me.  I  have  only  you  left  now — you  and  Elsie." 

Perhaps  it  was  natural  that  she  should  feel  a  little  wifely 
jealousy  at  having  his  sister  forced  in,  even  to  their  closest 
confidence ;  her  face  was  overclouded  for  an  instant,  but  she 
subdued  the  feeling  and  said,  kindly  : 

"  I  know  what  you  have  suffered,  dear ;  I  can  understand 
the  effect  it  has  had  upon  your  character — but  you  may 
trust  me — indeed  you  may." 

"  I  know  that,  dear  wife ;  I  believe  that !  " 

He  drew  her  closer  to  him  ;  for  a  few  moments  she  sat 
with  her  hand  among  the  short,  dark  curls  of  his  hair,  then 
she  said,  abruptly : 

"  Grantley  ?  " 

«  What  is  it,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"  It  can't  be  anything  very  terrible  ;  you  need  not  hesi 
tate  so." 

"  Only  because  it  sounds  foolish  !  " 

"Nothing  ever  can  seem  foolish  from  your  lips,"  he  said, 
softly  ;  and  she  blushed  like  a  girl  at  his  praise. 

"  That  woman  you — you  loved  once,"  she  said ;  "  was 
she  dearer  to  you  than  I  am  ?  " 


254  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

Grantley  Mellen's  face  darkened. 

"  Let  me  blot  out  all  thought  of  that  time,"  he  exclaimed, 
passionately;  "I  would  like  to  burn  out  of  my  soul  every 
trace  of  those  years  in  which  she  had  a  part.  I  loved  her 
with  the  passion  of  youth — no,  Bessie,  it  was  not  a  feeling 
so  deep  and  holy  as  my  love  for  you,  and  it  is  over  for  ever." 

His  face  softened,  and  his  voice  trembled  with  a  more 
gentle  emotion,  for  he  thought  of  that  lone  grave  on  the 
hillside,  which  he  had  so  lately  seen  closed  over  his  first  love. 

"  Then  you  do  love  me?  "  whispered  his  wife  ;  "  you  do 
love  me  ?  " 

"  What  a  question,  darling !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is  silly." 

"  Bessie,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  moment's  thought ;  "  I 
cannot  help  the  feeling — you  seem  changed." 

"  I— changed,  Grantley  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  my  fault ;  but  I  feel  as  if  there  was  a  some 
thing  which  kept  us  apart — a  mystery  which  I  cannot 
penetrate — a  gulf  which  no  effort  of  mine  can  bridge." 

She  was  a  little  agitated  at  first,  but  that  passed. 

"  What  mystery  could  there  be  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  don't 
understand  you,  Grantley." 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  mean  myself.  Is  it  my  fault, 
Elizabeth  ?  Are  you  angry  still  at  what  I  said  the  night 
you  lost  your  bracelet  ?  " 

She  did  not  stir;  she  kept  the  hand  he  held  even  from 
quivering,  but  the  face  he  could  not  see  grew  white  and  con 
tracted  under  a  sterner  pain. 

"  Were  you  angry,  Bessie  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"Not  angry,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  hesitating  some 
what.  "  I  was  hurt  and  indignant — you  ought  to  trust  me, 
my  husband." 

"  I  do,  dearest,  I  do  trust  you  !  Why  should  I  not  ? 
There  is  no  secret  between  us,  Bessie — no  mystery — nothing 
which  keeps  our  hearts  asunder !  " 


A     HALF     UNDERSTANDING.  255 

She  was  silent — she  was  struggling  for  power  to  speak, 
knowing  that  every  second  of  hesitation  told  against  her  in 
a  way  which  volumes  of  protestation  could  never  counteract. 

"  There  is  no  such  cloud  between  us  ?  "  he  said  again. 

"  No,  Grantley,  no  ! " 

She  spoke  almost  sharply. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Elizabeth." 

"  I  am  not,  indeed  I  am  not ! " 

She  was  speaking  firmly  now — her  voice  was  a  little  hard, 
like  that  of  a  person  making  an  effort  to  appear  natural. 

"  I  am  not  angry,  but  I  ask  you  to  reason — to  reflect. 
What  secret  could  I  have — what  mystery  ?  " 

"  None,  wife,  none  ;  I  know  that !  " 

"  And  yet  you  cannot  be  at  rest  ?  " 

"  I  am— I  will  be." 

For  a  few  moments  they  sat  together  in  silence,  then 
Mellen  said  : 

"Even  in  your  past,  Bessie,  you  have  no  secret !" 

"  None,"  she  answered,  and  her  voice  was  perfectly  open 
and  sincere  now.  "There  is  not  in  all  my  girlhood  the 
least  thing  that  I  could  wish  to  conceal  from  you ;  it 
passed  quietly,  it  was  growing  very  dreary  and  cold  when 
you  came  with  your  love  and  carried  me  away  to  a  brighter 
life." 

"  It  is  so  sweet  to  hear  this,  Bessie  ! "  he  whispered,  as 
his  face  grew  gentle  with  the  tenderness  which  warmed  his 
heart.  "  We  have  been  separated  so  much,  had  so  little 
time  to  realize  our  happiness,  that  neither  of  us  have  quite 
learned  to  receive  it  quietly — don't  you  think  it  is  so,  dear 
child?" 

"  It  may  be,"  she  exclaimed,  and  her  voice  deepened 
with  sudden  intensity.  "  Only  trust  me,  my  husband ; 
trust  and  love  me  always.  I  will  deserve  it.  Only  trust 
me!" 

"  Always,  Bessie,  always  !    My  darling,  I  have  only  you 


256  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

in  the  whole  world — all  my  hopes,  my  love,  centre  upon 
you — I  am  like  a  miser  with  one  treasure  which  he  fears  to 
lose." 

"Only  a  treasure  to  you,"  she  said,  playfully;  "you 
would  be  astonished  to  see  what  a  common-place  pebble  it 
is  to  other  people." 

"  That  is  not  so  ;  you  know  it,  Bessie." 

"  Never  mind  how  it  may  be ;  if  I  am  precious  in  your 
eyes  it  is  all  I  ask." 

So  they  talked  each  other  into  serenity  for  the  time. 
Their  married  life  had  been  so  broken  up  that  it  was  natural 
that  much  of  the  enthusiasm  of  lovers  should  remain — even 
in  their  old  difficulties  there  had  been  none  of  the  common 
place  quarrels  which  degrade  love,  and  wear  it  out  much 
more  quickly  than  a  trouble  which  strikes  deeper  ever  does. 

"Since  I  carne  back,"  Grantley  said,  "I  have  sometimes 
thought  it  might  be  a  little  feeling  towards  Elsie  which 
made  you  so  strange." 

"  What  feeling  but  kindness  could  I  have  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  True  ;  it  would  not  be  like  you,  Bessie.  You  love  her, 
don't  you  ?  It  was  through  her  we  knew  each  other — 
remember  that ! " 

"  I  do,  and  very  pleasantly ;  but  I  have  no  need  to  think 
of  that  to  be  kind  and  gentle  with  her — when  have  you 
seen  me  otherwise  ?  " 

"  Never  ;  I  can  honestly  say  never ! " 

"  Has  Elsie  complained  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  and  never  had  such  a  thought,  I  am  certain." 

"  When  I  married  you,  Grantley,  your  sister  became 
mine — I  could  not  be  more  anxious  for  her,  more  willing 
to  guard  and  cherish  her,  if  she  had  been  a  legacy  from 
my  own  dead  mother,  than  I  am  now." 

"  I  am  certain  of  that,  and  I  love  and  honor  you  for  it. 
But  in  your  place  I  should  perhaps  be  annoyed  even  to 
have  a  sister  share  affection  with  me." 


A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING.  257 

"  It  is  not  like  your  love  for  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  no  love  could  be  like  that !  But  Elsie  is  such 
a  child,  such  a  happy,  innocent  creature,  and  I  never  look 
at  her  without  remembering  my  dying  mother's  last  words. 
If  any  harm  came  to  her,  Bessie,  I  think  I  could  not  even 
venture  to  meet  that  lost  mother  in  heaven.'' 

"  No  harm  will  come  to  her,  Grantley — none  shall !  " 

"  I  think  she  is  one  of  those  creatures  born  to  be  happy; 
I  trust  she  may  never  have  a  great  trial  in  all  her  life.  I 
don't  believe  she  could  endure  it ;  she  would  fade  like  a 
flower." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  tell  how  any  one  would  receive 
suffering,"  Elizabeth  replied ;  "  sometimes  those  very 
fragile  natures  are  best  able  to  bear  up,  and  find  an 
elasticity  which  prevents  sorrow  taking  deep  root." 

"  It  may  be  so ;  but  I  could  not  bear  to  have  any  pain 
come  near  her — It  would  strike  my  own  heart." 

"  Could  any  one  be  more  light-hearted  and  careless  than 
she  is  ?  " 

"Oh,  she  is  happy  as  a  bird — only  let  us  keep  her  so.''* 

Even  into  the  utmost  sacredness  of  their  affection,  that 
sister's  image  must  be  brought  —  it  did  cause  Elizabeth 
pain  in  spite  of  all  her  denials — Mellen  might  have  dis 
covered  that  if  he  had  seen  her  face.  But  the  feeling 
passed  swiftly,  the  face  cleared,  and  while  it  brightened 
under  his  loving  words  the  strength  of  a  great  resolution 
settled  down  upon  it. 

They  sat  in  that  old  fashioned  room  talking  for  a  long 
time.  It  was  the  happiest,  most  peaceful  day  they  had 
spent  since  Mellen's  return. 

After  a  time,  Mellen  proposed  tnat  they  should  go  out 
to  ride,  for  the  afternoon  was  sunny  and  delightful. 

"A  long    gallop  over   the    hills  will  do  you    good,"  he 
said ;  "  it  is  a  shame  to  spend  such  weather  in  the  house." 
16 


258  A     HALF      UNDERSTANDING. 

While  he  ordered  the  horses,  Elizabeth  went  up  to  her 
dressing-room  to  put  on  her  habit. 

She  dressed  herself  without  assistance,  and  with  a  fever 
ish  haste  which  brought  the  color  to  her  face  and  light  to 
her  eyes. 

"I  will  be  happy/'  she  muttered;  "I  will  not  think. 
There  is  no  looking  back  now ;  it  is  too  late ;  only  let  me 
keep  the  past  shut  close  and  go  on  toward  the  future." 

As  she  stood  before  the  glass,  gazing  absently  at  the 
reflection  of  her  own  face  and  repeating  those  thoughts 
aloud,  her  husband's  voice  called  her  from  the  hall  below. 

"Bessie,  come  down — the  horses  are  at  the  door." 

She  broke  away  from  her  reverie  and  hurried  downstairs, 
where  he  met  her  with  a  fond  smile  and  a  new  pride  in  her, 
unusual  beauty. 

"  The  very  thought  of  the  fresh  air  has  done  you  good," 
he  said. 

"  It  is  not  that,  Grantley— not  that." 

He  looked  at  her  tenderly,  understanding  all  that  her 
words  meant. 

"Because  we  are  happy?"  he  whispered. 

"  With  your  love  and  confidence  to  bless  my  life  I  have 
all  the  happiness  I  can  ask,"  she  said,  earnestly. 

He  led  her  down  the  steps,  seated  her  upon  her  horse, 
and  they  rode  away  down  the  hill,  and  dashed  out  upon 
the  pleasant  road. 

"  We  will  go  over  the  hills,"  Grantley  said  ;  "  the  air  is 
so  delightful  there,  and  one  has  such  a  magnificent  view  of 
the  ocean." 

"  I  believe  you  would  be  wretched  away  from  the  boister 
ous  old  sea,"  said  Elizabeth,  laughing. 

"  I  do  love  it ;  when  I  was  a  boy  my  one  desire  was  to 
be  a  sailor.  Some  time,  Bessie,  we  will  have  a  yacht  and 
go  cruising  about  to  our  heart's  content;  after  Elsie  is 
married  though,  for  she  suffers  so  dreadfully  from  fright  and 
illness." 


TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR.  259 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasant,  Grantley." 

"  Would  it  not  ?  Just  you  and  I  alone ;  it  would  be  like 
having  a  little  world  all  to  ourselves.  Allans,  Bessie ; 
here  is  a  nice  level  place  for  a  gallop  ;  wake  Gipsy  up." 

They  rode  on  swiftly,  growing  so  light-hearted  and  joy 
ous  that  they  were  laughing  and  talking  like  a  pair  of 
happy  children,  seeming  quite  out  of  reach  of  all  the 
shadows  which  had  darkened  their  hearts  during  the  past 
days. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

TRIFLES     LIGHT     AS     AIR. 

WHILE  Mellen  and  Elizabeth  rode  off  through  the  golden 
afternoon,  Elsie  and  Tom  Fuller  came  in  from  a  stroll  about 
the  grounds.  They  had  seen  the  husband  and  wife  gallop 
ing  down  the  avenue,  and  as  they  entered  the  hall,  Elsie 
said : 

"  They  have  left  us  to  amuse  ourselves  the  best  way  we 
can  ;  what  shall  we  do,  Tom  Fuller  ?  " 

"  I'm  ready  for  anything." 

"  We  might  go  out  rowing." 

"  Oh,  Elsie  !  " 

"  Only  Grant  would  be  angry,  and  you  have  grown  afraid 
of  the  water." 

"  No  wonder,  where  you  are  concerned,"  cried  Tom.  "  I 
can't  think  of  that  dreadful  day  without  a  shudder." 

"  I  don't  allow  myself  to  think  of  it  at  all,"  said  Elsie. 

She  led  the  way  into  the  library  and  sat  down  in  a  low 
chair,  throwing  off  her  garden-hat,  and  beginning  to  ar 
range  the  wild  flowers  which  she  held  in  her  hands  around 
the  crown. 

"  What  color  is  this,  Tom  ?  "  she  asked,  holding   up  a 


260  TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR. 

delicate  purple  blossom  that  drooped  its  head,  as  if  faint 
with  its  own  perfume. 

Tom's  ignorance  of  color  was  a  never-failing  source  of 
amusement  to  her.  He  looked  at  the  flower  very  seriously  ; 
then  after  reflection  said,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  was 
certain  of  being  perfectly  correct  for  once  : 

"  That's  blue,  of  course  ;  I  am  not  quite  blind,  whatever 
you  may  think." 

Elsie  screamed  with  delight. 

"  Oh,  you  delicious  old  goose !  I  suppose  you  call  this 
one  pink  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  confident  that  he  must  be  right  this 
time  ;  "  I  suppose  the  most  prejudiced  person  would  have  to 
call  that  pink." 

"  It's  the  most  delicate  lavender,"  cried  Elsie,  in  fresh 
shrieks  of  ecstasy  at  Tom's  blindness.  "  Oh,  I  never  saw 
such  a  stupid  in  all  my  life." 

Tom  rubbed  his  forehead  for  an  instant,  then  Elsie's 
laughter  proved  so  contagious  that  he  burst  into  merriment 
as  hearty  as  her  own. 

"I  don't  suppose,"  said  Tom,  "there's  such  an  idiot  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  as  I  am." 

"  I  really  don't  suppose  there  is,"  replied  Elsie,  candidly. 

"  It  is  absolutely  beyond  belief,"  said  Tom. 

"  It  is,"  answered  Elsie. 

"And  I  shall  never  be  any  better,"  cried  Tom. 

"  I  have  told  you  so  a  thousand  times,"  rejoined  Elsie, 
humming  a  tune,  inclined  to  perfect  truthfulness  for  once. 

Tom's  face  lengthened  for  an  instant,  he  gave  his  hair 
another  unmerciful  combing  with  his  fingers. 

"  And  you  think  there's  not  the  least  help  for  it  ?  " 

"  Not  the  very  least  in  the  world,  Tom,  not  a  gleam  of 
hope  !  But  don't  feel  bad  about  it ;  I  am  tired  of  brilliant 
men  ;  everybody  is  something  wonderful  now-a-days ;  it's 
really  fatiguing." 


TRIFLES      LIGHT      A  8      ATE.  2G1 

"Do  you  think  so  ?  "  demanded  he  ;  "do  you  really  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor." 

"  Then  I'm  glad  I  am  a  donke}^"  said  Tom,  energetically. 

"  And  so  am  I,"  returned  Elsie.  "  There,  see,  isn't  that 
a  lovely  wreath  ?  " 

She  held  up  the  hat  for  Tom  to  scent  the  delicious  fra 
grance  of  the  garland  twisted  around  it. 

"You  take  the  color  quite  out  of  them,  holding  them 
near  your  cheeks,"  said  Tom,  with  a  glance  of  admiration. 

"  I  declare  you  are  getting  complimentary  !  You  shall 
have  a  wild  rosebud  for  your  buttonhole  in  payment ;  kneel 
down  here,  while  I  put  it  in." 

Tom  dropped  on  his  knees  while  Elsie  leisurely  selected 
the  flower.  She  was  talking  all  the  while,  and  Tom  on  his 
part  would  have  been  glad  to  prolong  the  situation  indefi 
nitely,  for  the  pleasure  of  having  her  little  face  so  close  to 
his,  and  her  hands  flirting  the  blossoms  about  his  lips  was 
entrancing. 

"  No,"  pursued  she,  "  I  am  tired  of  brilliant  men  ;  they 
always  make  my  head  ache  with  their  grand  talk.  You 
know  I'm  a  childish  little  thing,  Tom,  and  learned  discus 
sions  don't  suit  me." 

"  You're  a  fairy,  a  witch,  an  enchanted  princess  ! "  cried 
Tom. 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Elsie.  "  Perhaps  a  verbena  would 
look  better  than  a  rosebud,  Tom." 

Tom  cared  very  little  what  she  put  in  his  button-hole  ;  a 
thistle,  thorns  and  all,  would  have  been  precious  to  him  if 
her  hands  had  touched  it,  and  he  would  have  torn  his  fingers 
against  the  prickles  with  an  exquisite  sense  of  enjoyment. 

"  No,  the  rose  is  the  prettiest,"  said  Elsie,  and  she  threw 
the  verbena  away,  and  began  her  task  again. 

"Are  you  tired ;  do  you  want  to  get  up,  Tom  ?" 

"  You  know  I'd  rather  be  here  than  in  heaven  !  "  he  ex 
claimed. 


262  TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS     AIR. 

Elsie  gave  him  one  of  her  bewildering  glances. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  said  she ;  "  you  know  you 
don't ! " 

"I  do,  I  do!     Oh,  Elsie!" 

"  Keep  still,  keep  still.  You  jump  about  so  that  I  can't 
fasten  the  rose  ;  there,  I've  lost  the  pin ;  no,  here  it  is." 

She  was  so  busy  with  her  work  now  that  her  face  bent  quite 
close  to  his,  her  fair  curls  touched  his  cheeks,  her  breath 
stirred  the  hair  on  his  temples ;  the  intoxication  of  the 
moment  carried  Tom  beyond  all  power  of  self-restraint. 

He  snatehed  Elsie's  two  hands  and  cried  out : 

"  I  must  speak  ;  I  shall  die  if  I  don't !  I  haven't  said  a 
word  since  1  came  back  ;  I  know  it's  useless ;  but  I  love 
3Tou,  Elsie,  I  do  love  you." 

She  struggled  faintly  for  an  instant,  then  allowed  him  to 
keep  her  hands,  and  looked  down  into  his  face  through  her 
drooping  lashes  with  an  expression  that  made  Tom's  head 
fairly  reel. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  he  pleaded ;  "  don't  drive  me 
away  !  I'll  never  open  my  lips ;  just  let  me  speak  now  ! 
You  can't  think  how  much  I  love  you,  Elsie.  I'd  cut  my 
self  into  inch  pieces  if  it  would  do  you  any  good.  I'd  die 
for  you." 

"  I  would  rather  you  lived,"  whispered  Elsie. 

Tom  caught  the  words ;  a  mad  hope  sprang  up  in  his 
honest  heart ;  he  knew  that  it  was  folly,  but  he  could  Dot 
subdue  it  then. 

"  If  you  could  only  learn  to  love  me,"  he  went  on,  hur 
riedly  :  "  I'd  be  a  slave  to  you,  Elsie  !  I  am  rich  now  ;  I 
could  give  you  everything  your  heart  desired  ;  if  you  could 
only  care  for  me  ;  such  lots  of  candies  and  pretty  things." 

"  You  saved  my  life,  Tom,"  she  returned,  in  that  same 
thrilling  whisper  which  shook  the  very  heart  in  his  bosom. 

"  Oh,  don't  bring  that  up  as  a  claim,"  he  said  ;  "  wha 
was  I  born  for  except  to  be  useful  to  you  ?     But  I  love  you 


TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR.  263 

so ;  if  you  could  only  make  up  your  mind  to  endure  my 
ugliness  and  my  awkward  ways,  and — and " 

"  You  are  a  great  big  fellow  and  I  like  that,  and  don't 
think  you  ugly,"  said  Elsie  ;  "  and  I  don't  care  if  you  are 
awkward.  I  am  sick  of  men  that  walk  about  like  ballet- 
dancers." 

"  You  only  say  that  out  of  good-nature,"  said  Tom ; 
"you  are  afraid  of  hurting  my  feelings." 

"  Don't  I  always  say  what  I  think  ?  "  rejoined  she. 

"  But  you  don't  care  for  me — you  couldn't  love  me  !  " 

"  You  have  told  me  so  three  times  already,"  said  Elsie. 

But  all  the  while  there  was  something  in  her  face  and 
voice  which  made  him  persevere.  He  had  never  thought 
to  speak  of  his  love  to  her  again.  This  was  the  last,  last 
time ;  but  he  would  open  his  whole  heart  now,  she  should 
see  the  exact  truth. 

In  his  great  excitement,  Tom  forgot  all  bashfulness ;  he 
did  not  halt  in  his  speech,  but  poured  out  his  story  in 
strong,  manly  words,  that  must  have  awakened  at  least  a 
feeling  of  respect  in  any  woman's  bosom. 

"  I  tried  to  cure  myself,"  continued  Tom.  "  I  thought 
absence — entire  change — might  make  a  difference  in  my 
feelings.  But  when  the  two  years  ended  I  came  back, 
only  to  find  my  love  grown  deeper  from  the  lapse  of  time, 
with  every  feeling  more  firmly  centred  there.  You  speak 
kindly  to  me  sometimes.  You  pity  me — at  least  you  pity 
me  !  But  you  couldn't  love  me,  of  course ;  that  is  impossi 
ble  !  Let  me  get  up — I  mustn't  talk  any  more — let  me 
go ! " 

But  Elsie's  hand  still  rested  upon  his  shoulder, — she  did 
not  stir. 

"You  could  not  love  me,"  repeated  Tom;  "never, 
never  :  you  have  told  me  so  ever  so  many  times." 

"  I  was  silly  and  wicked,"  she  whispered  ;  "  I  am  wiser 


264  TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR. 

Her  words  lifted  Toin  into  the  seventh  heaven.  He 
cried  out : 

"  Don't  trifle  with  me,  Elsie — not  just  now — I  couldn't 
stand  it ! " 

"  I  am  not  trifling  with  you,  Tom." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  care  for  me  ?  " 

His  voice  was  broken  and  low.  He  waited  for  her  to 
push  him  away,  to  break  the  spell  rudely,  but  her  hand 
never  moved  from  his  shoulder.  It  seemed  to  rest  there 
with  a  caressing  pressure,  as  a  bird  settles  on  a  fondling 
hand,  and  still  the  fair  curls  swept  his  cheek. 

"  Elsie !  Elsie ! "  he  cried,  half-wild  with  struggling 
emotions. 

"  Dear  Tom,"  she  murmured  again. 

"  Oh,  are  you  in  earnest  ?"  he  almost  sobbed.  "Could 
you  take  me,  Elsie  ?  Let  me  be  your  slave — ready  to  tend 
you — to  care  for  you — only  living  for  your  happiness  ! " 

Elsie  shook  her  head  archly : 

"  You  would  grow  tired  of  petting  me." 

"  Never,  never  !     You  know  it !  " 

"  I  should  be  a  dreadful  little  tyrant  —  it  is  in  my 
nature ;  you  would  never  have  a  will  of  your  own." 

"  I  wouldn't  want  it ;  I  wouldn't  ask  it !  " 

"  I  should  flirt  and  drive  you  wild." 

"  I  would  never  try  to  stop  you." 

"  I  should  tease  you  incessantly." 

"  You'd  only  make  me  the  happier." 

"  I  should  tell  you  all  sorts  of  fibs." 

"  There  would  be  no  necessity,  for  I  would  not  dispute 
your  wishes." 

"  You  would  grow  tired  of  that." 

"  Only  try  me." 

"You  couldn't  love  me  always,  and  pet  me,  and  never 
get  out  of  patience,  and  think  I  was  perfect." 

"  I  could — I  should— I  always  shall !  Oh,  Elsie,  Elsie, 
I  love  you  so — I  love  you  so  ! " 


TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR.  265 

"  Get  up,  Tom  ;  you  are  a  foolish  old  goosey  ! " 

Tom  started  to  his  feet;  those  playful  words  were  a  cruel 
waking.  He  stood  before  her  painfully  white,  and  there 
was  a  suppressed  sob  in  his  voice  as  he  cried,  in  passionate 
reproach  : 

"  Oh,  Elsie  !  Elsie  !  " 

She  gave  a  wicked  laugh  at  his  distress. 

"  So  you  really  were  in  earnest  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"You  know  that  I  was,"  he  said.  "You  are  cruel  — 
cruel  ! " 

"  Ah,  now  you  are  angry — now  you  begin  to  hate  me  ! " 

"Never,  Elsie  !  If  you  tore  my  heart  and  stamped  on  it, 
I  could  not  hate  you." 

"But  you  are  angry;  and  you  said  you  could  be  patient." 

"  1  could,  if  you  cared  for  me  only  the  least  bit ! " 

"  Oh,  you  selfish  monster !  There,  Tom,  kneel  down 
again  ;  you  have  shaken  my  flower  out  of  your  coat." 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  passionately ;  "  I  can't  play  now ! 
This  is  dreadful  earnest  to  me,  Elsie,  however  great  sport 
it  may  be  to  you." 

"  Then  you  refuse  my  gift  ?  " 

"  I  can't  trifle  now— don't  ask  it." 

"  And  you  mean  to  rush  off  and  leave  me  ?  " 

"  I  had  better." 

"  Very  well.     If  you  refuse  me  my  one  little  wish  ! " 

"  I'll  stay  if  you  want  me  to,"  cried  Tom.  "  I'll  do 
anything  you  bid  me.  But  do  be  serious  for  a  minute, 
Elsie.  Just  answer  me  one  question." 

«  Only  one  ?     Will  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  To  set  the  matter  at  rest,"  pursued  he.  "  I'll  never 
trouble  you  again.  I  won't  open  my  lips " 

"  Then  how  shall  I  know  what  you  want  to  ask?"  she 
interrupted. 

Tom  fairly  groaned. 

"  1  do  believe  you  are  a  witch,  Elsie  ;  one  of  those  snow 
women  in  the  old  German  stories." 


2G6  TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR. 

"  Lurlci  —  Lurlci ! "  she  sang,  flourishing  the  blossoms 
about  his  head. 

Tom  dashed  off  the  flowers  in  a  blind  despair.  The 
scene  was  growing  too  much  for  him  to  bear. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  drearily,  "  I'll  go— I?ll  go  !  I  shan't 
trouble  you  again.  I  hope  the  day  may  never  come  when 
you  will  be  sorry,  Elsie.'7 

He  was  so  pale  and  trembled  so  violently,  that  she  was 
absolutely  terrified. 

"  Tom,  don't  look  so  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  only  wanted 
to  tease  you.  I  wouldn't  have  you  leave  me  for  the  world  ; 
I  should  be  wretched  !  " 

"Now  you  are  kind  again!  I  will  stay.  I  won't  tire 
you  with  telling  you  of  my  love — " 

"  But  I  want  to  hear,"  interrupted  Elsie. 

"  Oh,  little  child,  it  could  do  you  no  good !  I  suffer, 
Elsie,  1  suffer  ! " 

"  Tom,  you're  a  goose — what  you  call  a  goney !  " 

"  I  know  it,  dear  !  " 

"  And  you  are  just  as  blind  as  a  bat." 

"I  suppose  I  am,"  he  replied,  dejectedly. 

"  And  you're  too  stupid  to  live,"  cried  Elsie,  going  into  a 
great  excitement.  "  Don't  you  know  a  woman  can  say  one 
thing  and  mean  another?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  with  more  energy,  "  I  do  know  that. 
I  know  it  too  well." 

"  Great  Mr.  Wisdom  ! "  said  she  mockingly.  "  Then 
can't  you  understand — don't  you  see  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  bewildered  surprise.  She  was  smil 
ing  tenderly  in  his  face. 

"  Elsie  !  "  he  cried. 

She  let  her  hands  fall  in  his. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go,"  she  whispered;  "  never — 
never ! " 

"  You  love  me — you  will  marry  me  ?  " 


TRIFLES      LIGHT      AS      AIR.  267 

She  did  not  speak,  but  she  made  no  resistance  when  Tom 
caught  her  to  his  heart  and  rained  kisses  on  her  face,  utter 
ly  bewildered  and  unable  to  comprehend  anything  except 
that  happiness  had  descended  upon  his  long  night  at  length. 

But  Elsie  raised  herself,  pushed  him  off  and  said,  with  a 
dash  of  her  old  wickedness  : 

"  I'll  tease  you  to  death,  Tom  !  " 

"  I  can't  believe  it !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  say  it  once— 
say  <  I  love  you  ! ' " 

"  I  do  love  you,  Tom— there  !  " 

In  an  instant  she  flashed  up  again,  while  he  was  covering 
her  hands  with  kisses,  crying  : 

"  My  little  Elsie  !     My  own  at  last !  " 

"No  more  sentiment,"  said  she.  " Let's  be  reasonable, 
Tom ;  the  catastrophe  has  reached  a  climax." 

But  it  was  a  long  time  before  Tom  Fuller  could  regain 
composure  enough  to  talk  at  all  coherently,  or  in  what  Elsie 
termed  a  sensible  manner. 

"  It's  so  sudden,"  he  said.  "And  to  have  so  much  hap 
piness  just  when  I  thought  the  last  rope  was  going  out  of 
my  hand !  Why,  I  feel  like  the  fellow  who  clung  all  night 
to  the  side  of  a  precipice,  expecting  every  moment  to  be 
dashed  down  a  thousand  feet,  and  when  daylight  came  found 
he  had  hung  within  a  foot  of  the  ground  all  the  while ! " 

"  The  comparison  is  apt  and  delicious,"  said  Elsie,  laugh 
ing. 

"  And  you  love  me  !  Only  say  it  again,  Elsie — just 
once  ! " 

"  I  won't !  "  said  she.  "  But  I'll  box  your  ears  if  you 
don't  stop  behaving  like  a  crazy  man." 

Tom  caught  Elsie  up  in  his  arms  and  ran  twice  with  her 
across  the  floor,  paying  no  more  attention  to  her  cries  and 
struggles  than  if  she  had  been  a  baby. 

"  That's  for  punishment !  "  said  Tom. 

"  Let  me  down  !  Please  let  me  down  !  "  pleaded  Elsie. 
"  I  know  you'll  drop  me  !  Oh,  you  hurt  me,  Tom  ! " 


2G8  TWO      FACES      IN      THE      GLASS. 

Tom  placed  her  on  the  sofa  and  seated  himself  hy  her 
side.  But  she  started  away  and  ran  upstairs,  sending  back 
a  laugh  of  defiance. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

TWO    FACES    IN    THE    GLASS. 

WHEN  Elsie  entered  her  boudoir,  flushed  with  laughter 
and  breathless  with  running,  she  threw  herself  on  the  azure 
couch,  and  gathering  her  ringlets  in  a  mass  between  her 
hand  and  the  warm  cheek  under  which  it  was  thrust,  fell 
into  a  deeper  train  of  thought  than  was  usual  to  her. 

"  It's  done,  and  I  don't  care.  He  loves  me,  and  I  must 
be  loved.  He's  rich,  generous,  devoted,  worships  me  and 
always  will,  that's  one  comfort.  There'll  be  no  one  to  halve 
his  devotion  or  his  money  with  me,  no  one  to  look  glum  if 
I  want  to  be  a  little  bit  extravagant.  Grant  never  refused 
me  anything  in  his  life,  but  I'm  always  afraid  to  ask  half 
that  I  want.  But  with  Tom  everything  will  be  my  own. 
He  won't  ask  a  question.  Such  laces  as  I  will  have  !  As 
for  cashmere  shawls  and  silks,  he  shall  get  them  for  me  by 
the  dozens.  Elizabeth  won't  say  that  such  things  are  out 
of  place  then.  I  shall  be  a  married  woman,  free  of  her  and 
this  old  house  too,  free  of  everything,  but — but " 

Elsie  started  up,  breaking  this  selfish  train  of  thought 
with  the  action. 

"  I  wish  she'd  stop  talking  to  me  ;  1  don't  want  to  hear 
about  it.  Why  won't  she  bear  her  trouble  alone,  if  she  will 
make  trouble  about  what  isn't  to  be  helped?  I'll  have  no 
more  confidences  with  her,  that's  certain.  It  is  like  break 
ing  one's  heart  up  in  little  pieces.  I  don't  want  to  keep 
secrets,  but  forget  them ;  and  I  will,  too,  in  spite  of  her. 


TWO      FACES     IN      THE      GLA**SS.  269 

She  shan't  make  me  eternally  miserable  with  her  pining  and 
remorse."  , 

Elsie  paused  before  a  mirror  as  these  thoughts  rose  in  her 
mind  and  half  broke  from  her  lips.  She  was  threading  out 
her  curls  and  trying  the  effect  as  they  floated,  like  golden 
thistledown,  over  the  roses  of  her  cheek.  All  at  once  she 
started,  and  a  look  of  pale  horror  stole  to  her  face  ;  the 
hand  which  had  been  wandering  among  her  hair  dropped  to 
her  side,  turning  cold  and  white  as  marble  j  the  lips  which 
had  been  just  parted  with  an  admiring  smile  of  her  own 
beauty,  lost  every  trace  of  color.  She  still  gazed  intently 
into  the  glass,  but  not  at  herself.  Beyond  her  pretty  image, 
reflected  from  the  distance,  sat  a  man  with  a  pen  in  his 
hand,  as  if  just  arrested  in  the  act  of  writing.  Rich 
shadows  of  crimson  drapery  lay  around  him,  and  a  gleam 
of  pure  light  from  a  half-closed  upper  blind  fell  across  his 
head,  lighting  it  up  grandly. 

It  was  a  magnificent  picture  that  Elsie  gazed  upon,  far 
beyond  her  own  image  in  the  glass.  But  she  only  saw 
the  man,  without  regard  to  his  surroundings,  and  the  very 
heart  in  her  bosom  turned  sick  with  loathing  or  with  fear. 

It  was  North,  looking  at  her  through  the  open  door,  with 
a  sneering  smile  on  his  lip — North  in  the  very  chamber  of 
her  brother's  wife,  quietly  seated  there  as  if  he  had  been 
master  of  the  house.  For  a  full  minute  Elsie  stood,  form 
ing  a  double  picture  in  the  glass  with  that  bold,  bad  man, 
then  her  color  came  hotly  back,  and  she  turned  upon  him, 
brave  with  indignation. 

"You  here  !"  she  said,  advancing  into  the  room  till  its 
crimson  haze  overwhelmed  her.  "  You  here,  and  in  this 
chamber !  Get  up  at  once  and  begone.  If  my  brother 
finds  you  under  his  roof  he  will  shoot  you  on  the  spot." 

"  Never  fear,  pretty  one,"  said  North,  with  an  evil  gleam 
on  his  face.  "Two  can  play  at  a  game  of  that  sort.  If  he 
made  the  first  assault  nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure. 
Self-defence  is  justifiable  in  law,  and  his  will  is  made." 


270  TWO      FACES      IN      THE      GLASS. 

Elsie  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  but  she  leaned  one 
hand  heavily  on  the  table  that  he  might  not  see  her  agita 
tion. 

"  Man,  man,  you  would  not — you  dare  not  meet  my 
brother.  You  that  have  wronged  him  so  !  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  North,  biting  the  feather  of  his  pen 
and  looking  down  on  a  sheet  of  note-paper  on  which  he  had 
been  about  to  write  ;  "  I  do  not  see  this  wrong  so  clearly. 
If  a  woman's  heart  will  wander  off  in  any  forbidden  direc 
tion,  am  I  to  blame  because  it  flutters  into  my  bosom  ?  And 
if  other  hearts  follow  after " 

"  Stop!"  cried  Elsie,  stamping  her  little  foot  passionately 
on  the  carpet.  "  How  dare  you  speak  of  a  fraud  so  black, 
of  treason  so  detestable  !  I  am  his  sister,  sir,  and  have 
something  of  his  courage,  frivolous  as  people  think  me. 
Persecute  her  or  provoke  me  too  far  and  I  will  tell  him  all." 

"  Indeed  you  would  not,"   answered  North,  quietly. 

"  What  should  prevent  me  ?  " 

"  She  will.  You  dare  not  break  a  solemn  promise  to 
her." 

"I  dare  !  "  she  almost  shrieked,  clenching  her  little  hand 
in  a  paroxysm  of  rage.  "  I  will,  if  ever  you  come  here 
again." 

"No;  I  think  not.  Women  are  weak  creatures,  but 
they  generally  find  strength  to  keep  secrets  that  bring  ruin 
in  the  telling.  You  cannot  be  over  anxious  to  see  this 
proud  brother  of  yours  commit  murder  on " 

"  On  a  villain — a  household  traitor — a — a " 

Elsie  stopped  for  want  of  breath. 

"Be  quiet,"  said  North,  rising  sternly  and  towering  over 
her.  "  I  have  no  dealings  with  you.  One  might  as  well 
reason  with  a  handful  of  silkweed  thrown  upon  the  wind." 

"But  I  will  have  something  to  say — everything  to  say. 
You  have  pursued  her,  plundered  her,  tortured  her  long 
enough.  More  than  once  she  has  been  on  the  brink  of 


TWO     FACES     IN     THE     GLASS.  271 

discovery  by  your  persistence  in  prowling  over  the  grounds 
and  from  her  sttempts  to  conceal  your  rapacious  extortions. 
All  this  must  end." 

"  With  all  my  heart ;  let  the  lady  accede  to  my  terms 
and  I  disappear." 

"  What  are  those  terms  ?  " 

"  I  will  write  them,  and  your  own  fair  hands  shall  give 
her  the  note." 

Elsie  did  not  answer,  but  her  white  lips  closed  firmly,  and 
her  blue  eyes  glittered  like  steel  in  the  glow  of  a  hot  fire, 
as  he  dipped  his  pen  deliberately  in  the  bronze  inkstand 
and  began  to  write. 

"There,"  he  said,  folding  the  note  and  presenting  it  to 
her  with  a  princely  air,  as  if  her  courage  had  impressed  him 
with  respect ;  "  place  this  in  her  hands  and  she  will  know 
how  to  carry  it  out." 

Elsie  took  the  note  and  hid  it  away  in  the  folds  of  her 
dress. 

"Do*  not  fail,"  he  said,  before  taking  his  hat  from  the 
table. 

"  I  will  not,"  answered  Elsie.  "  But  these  cruel  visits 
must  cease  now  and  for  ever.  I  will  give  the  note  only  on 
this  condition." 

"  Her  answer  will  decide  that.     Now,  good-bye." 

He  reached  forth  his  hand,  smiling  pleasantly  upon  her; 
but  she  clenched  hers,  as  if  tempted  to  strike  him  for  the 
insolent  offer,  and  turned  away  biting  her  pale  lips. 

The  hand,  rejected  with  such  disdain,  fell  towards  the  hat 
which  North  placed  lightly  on  his  head,  casting  one  glance 
in  the  opposite  mirror  as  he  did  so.  Then,  with  the  elastic 
step  of  a  man  retiring  from  a  festival,  he  left  the  chamber, 
while  Elsie  looked  after  him  with  wondering  eyes  and 
parted  lips,  astonished  by  an  audacity  which  was  absolutely 
sublime. 

The  young  creature  stood  with  bated  breath  till  his  light 


272  TWO      FACES      IN      THE      GLASS. 

footsteps  died  away  in  the  nearest  passage.  She  listened 
anxiously,  but  heard  no  door  close  or  further  movement  of 
any  kind.  His  exit  was  noiseless  as  his  entrance  had  been. 
When  Elsie  was  left  alone  she  sat  down  in  the  dim  light 
of  Elizabeth's  room,  pushed  the  hair  back  from  her  fore 
head  and  pressed  both  palms  on  her  temples,  where  pain 
was  throbbing  like  a  pulse.  She  moaned  and  cried  out 
under  the  sudden  anguish,  for  resistance  to  suffering  of  any 
kind  was  killing  to  this  young  creature,  and  the  reaction 
which  followed  that  passionate  outburst  of  feeling  left  her 
helpless  as  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

SECRECY  IMPOSED  ON  TOM  FULLER. 

DURING  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  Elsie  sat  pressing  both 
hands  to  her  head,  while  her  Qyes  filled  with  tears,  and  her 
lips  quivered  like  those  of  an  infant  grieved  by  some  hurt 
it  cannot  understand.  A  voice  from  the  outer  passage 
aroused  her.  It  was  that  of  Tom  Euller,  who  had  worked 
himself  into  a  state  of  intense  excitement  from  fear  that 
his  rough  tenderness  had  mortal!}'  offended  its  object. 

"  Miss  Mellen — Elsie,  do  come  down  and  speak  to  a 
fellow.  I'm  sorry  as  can  be  that  I  made  such  a  donkey  of 
myself  and  frightened  you  away.  Just  give  one  peep  out 
of  the  door,  darling,  to  say  that  you  will  forgive  me  by-and- 
bye,  and  I  never  will  kiss  you  again  so  long — that  is  if  it's 
very  disagreeable." 

The  door  of  Elsie's  chamber  opened  and  a  face  all  flushed 
with  tears,  through  which  a  smile  was  breaking,  looked  out 
on  the  repentant  Tom. 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  darling,  I  didn't  mean  it,  and  you've  been 


SECRECY     IMPOSED     ON     TOM    FULLER.      273 

crying  all    this    time.     If  somebody    would    take    me    out 
and  lynch  me  I'd  be  obliged  to  'em — upon  my  soul,  I  would.'7 

"  Never  mind,  Tom.  I'm  not  angry — only  such  a  fright, 
with  crying,"  said  Elsie,  reaching  her  hand  through  the 
opening,  which  he  forthwith  covered  with  penitent  kisses. 
"  It's  only  a  headache." 

"  A  headache !  dear  me,  what  a  brute  I  am.  But  wait  a 
minute.  I'll  send  right  to  the  city  for  a  dozen  bottles  of 
bay  rum,  or  schnapps,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  No,  no,"  answered  Elsie,  laughing  herself  into  semi- 
hysterics,  "  I  shall  be  better  in  a  minute." 

"  And  come  dowstairs — will  you  come  downstairs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  wait  a  minute  while  I  get  the  tangle  out  of 
my  hair." 

Tom  retreated  to  the  staircase  and  waited  with  his  eyes 
fastened  on  Elsie's  door  like  those  of  a  goodnatured  watch 
dog.  As  for  the  girl  herself,  she  bathed  her  face  in  cold 
water,  chilling  the  pain  away,  straightened  ont  her  curls, 
twisted  all  her  hair  in  a  great  knot  back  of  the  head,  and 
came  out  softly,  like  a  dear  little  forgiving  nun,  filled  with 
compassion  for  other  people's  sins. 

Tom  followed  her  into  the  little  morning-room  where  his 
confession  had  been  made,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  to 
which  she  retreated  with  great  caution,  as  if  she  were  afraid. 

"  Won't  Bessie  and  Mellen  be  astonished,"  he  in 
sinuated  ;  "  I  do  wonder  how  they  will  look,  when  we  tell 
'em  how  it  is.". 

"You  won't  have  an  opportunity  of  judging  just  at 
present,"  replied  Elsie. 

"  Why  won't  I  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  choose  you  to  say  one  word  about  the 
matter  to  any  human  being  until  I  give  you  permission." 

"  Now,  what  is  that  for  ?  "  asked  Tom,  somewhat  dis 
comfited. 

"  Just  because  I  prefer  it,"  answered  the  young  lady. 
17 


274   SECRECY  IMPOSED  ON  TOM  FULLER. 

"  But  I  want  the  whole  world  to  know  how  happy  I  am," 
said  he. 

"Tom  Fuller,"  cried  Elsie,  menacingly;  "are  you  going 
to  begin  already  to  dispute  and  annoy  me,  after  what  I've 
just  suffered,  too  ?  " 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no  !     I  am  as  sorry  as  can  be." 

"Then  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,"  continued  she,  "and 
promise  me  not  to  mention  what  has  happened  till  I  give 
you  leave." 

"  It's  a  little  hard,"  said  Tom,  "  not  to  be  able  to  show 
how  happy  a  fellow — why,  I  shall  tell  in  spite  of  myself." 

"  If  you  don't  promise,  I'll  take  back  every  word  I've 
said—" 

"  I  will !  I  will ! "  he  interrupted,  terrified  at  the  bare 
threat.  "  Don't  be  angry,  pet ;  I'll  do  just  as  you  say." 

"  That's  a  nice  old  Tom  ;  now  you  are  good  and  I  love 

you." 

"  But  you  won't  keep  it  long,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  but  just  at  present  I  choose  ;  I  told  you  what 
a  terrible  tyrant  I  should  be." 

"  I  like  it,"  said  Tom,  with  the  thorough  enjoyment  of 
her  mastery,  which  only  an  immense  creature  like  him  can 
feel  in  a  pretty  woman's  graceful  tyranny. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Oh,  little  girl,  we  will  be  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long ! ' 
cried  he. 

"  And  you'll  never  contradict  me  ?  " 

"  Never ! " 

"  And  I  shall  have  my  own  way  more  and  more  every 
day?" 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  thoughtfully ;  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  easily  ;  but  you  may  try." 

Elsie  laughed  ;  his  oddity  amused  her. 

"  You  are  a  perfect  ogre  of  a  lover,"  cried  she,  "  What 
a  head  of  hair  ! " 


THE     RIDE     AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES.      27/"> 

"  It  never  will  keep  in  order,"  said  Tom,  pressing  down 
the  shaggy  locks  with  both  hands. 

"  Let  them  alone."  said  Elsie ;  "  you  look  more  like  a 
lion  that  way  ;  I  like  it." 

She  was  gracious  and  playful  as  a  kitten,  but  Tom's  hap 
piness  was  disturbed  all  too  quickly  by  the  entrance  of 
Victoria,  crying : 

"  Missis  horse  runned  off  wid  her ;  but  she  y'arnt  hurt ; 
she's  a  comin'  in  de  carriage." 

Out  of  the  room  Tom  and  Elsie  went,  anxious  to  learn 
the  full  meaning  of  her  words. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

THE    RIDE    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 

THE  husband  and  wife  galloped  joyously  on  for  miles  and 
miles  in  the  soft  light  of  that  delicious  afternoon ;  with 
every  step  the  gloom  and  the  shadows  seemed  to  lift  them 
selves  from  each  heart,  till  they  were  cordial  and  gay 
almost  as  Elsie  herself. 

These  few  happy  hours,  soon  to  be  dimly  overclouded, 
were  so  bright  and  sweet,  that  even  in  the  midst  of  after 
trouble,  their  memory  would  come  up  like  fragments  of 
exquisite  melody,  haunting  those  two  people. 

Whatever  the  secret  was  which  oppressed  Elizabeth,  its 
recollection  was  put  aside  for  the  time,  and  Mellen  gave 
himself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  the  hour  with  all  the  inten 
sity  of  a  nature  which  enjoys  and  suffers  so  sharply,  that 
even  trifles  can  make  for  it  a  keener  excitement  than  great 
happiness  or  acute  suffering  bring  to  more  placid  charac 
ters. 

"  You  are  not  tired,  Bessie  ?  " 


27G       THE     RIDE    AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES. 

"  Tired,  no !     I  could  ride  on  forever  !  " 

"  See  how  the  waters  shine  in  the  sun ;  they  seem  so  full 
of  joyous,  buoyant  life,  that  it  gives  one  strength  to  watch 
them." 

Elizabeth  could  fully  share  in  his  enthusiasm,  and  she 
allowed  her  poetical  fancy  full  play,  indulging  in  beautiful 
comparisons  and  earnest  talk,  which  unveiled  a  phase  of  her 
nature  seldom  revealed  except  to  those  who  knew  her  well. 

"  I  never  heard  a  woman  talk  as  you  can,"  said  Mellen, 
admiringly  ;  "  we  shall  have  you  writing  books,  or  coming 
out  as  a  genius  yet." 

Elizabeth  laughed  gaily. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  ;  I  know  you  would  not  like  it." 

"  Indeed  I  should  not ;  it  springs  from  my  selfishness  I 
know,  but  I  like  to  keep  your  real  self  entirely  for  my  own 
life." 

The  afternoon  was  wearing  away  when  they  turned  home 
wards,  but  still  retained  \£s  brightness  and  beauty,  as  their 
hearts  kept  the  new  glow  which  warmed  them. 

They  galloped  down  the  long  hills  and  through  the  level 
groves  till  they  were  nearly  home. 

The  sunlight  faded — a  strong  breeze  swept  up  from  the 
ocean,  and  a  sudden  cloud  obscured  the  sun  ;  one  of  those 
abrupt  changes  so  common  in  autumn  fell  upon  the  sea, 
robbing  the  day  of  its  loveliness,  and  making  it  so  cold  and 
leaden  that  it  was  more  than  dreary  from  contrast  with  the 
glorious  morning. 

They  were  near  the  gates  which  led  into  their  own  domain, 
when  a  man  came  running  swiftly  towards  them,  and  as  he 
passed  looked  up  in  Elizabeth's  face. 

Whether  her  horse  was  frightened  by  the  stranger  rushing 
so  abruptly  past  him,  or  whether  she  gave  some  nervous  jerk 
to  the  reins,  was  not  apparent ;  but  a  sharp  cry  rang  from 
her  lips,  the  horse  made  a  simultaneous  spring,  and  though 
a  good  rider,  Elizabeth  was  unseated  and  thrown  from  her 


THE     RIDE     AND      ITS     CONSEQUENCES.      277 

saddle.  Mellen  sprang  from  his  horse  and  bent  over  his 
wife. 

"  I  am  not  hurt,"  she  said  faintly,  "  not  hurt." 

The  old  woman  who  lived  in  a  little  house  at  the  entrance 
of  the  grounds  which  they  had  transformed  into  a  lodge, 
came  out  at  that  moment,  and  being  a  Yankee  woman  of 
energy  and  resources,  caught  Elizabeth's  horse,  and  was 
ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  wherever  it  might  be  required. 

While  this  woman  led  the  two  horses  within  the  gates 
and  fastened  them,  Mellen  raised  his  wife  and  carried  her 
into  the  lodge.  She  was  deathly  pale  and  trembling  vio 
lently,  though  in  reply  to  his  anxious  inquiries,  she  re 
peated  the  same  answer  : 

"  I  am  not  hurt — not  at  all  hurt." 

She  drank  a  glass  of  water,  lay  down  for  a  few  moments 
on  a  cane-bottomed  settee,  which  the  room  boasted  as  its 
principal  elegance,  then  insisted  upon  rising. 

Mellen  sent  the  woman  on  to  the  house,  with  orders  for 
the  people  to  send  down  the  carriage,  as  he  would  not  have 
permitted  Elizabeth  to  walk,  even  if  her  strength  had 
seemed  more  equal  to  the  exertion  than  it  really  was. 

"  Did  that  man  frighten  the  horse  ? "  he  asked,  when 
she  appeared  composed  enough  to  speak.  "  The  whole 
thing  was  over  before  I  knew  it — even  before  I  saw  him 
clearly  he  was  gone — you  cried  out — the  horse  started — " 

"  No  !  "  she  answered  with  feverish  earnestness,  "  the 
horse  started  first — I  should  not  have  shrieked  but  for  that 
—why  should  I?" 

"  The  scoundrel  must  have  frightened  the  horse ;  did  you 
recognise  him  ?  " 

"  He  was  running  fast,  you  know,  and  darted  into  the 
woods  so  suddenly." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  lain  hands  on  him !  " 

"  He  meant  no  harm.  Gipsy  has  grown  shy  of  late. 
Don't  think  about  the  matter — there  is  no  mischief  done." 


278      THE     RIDE     AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES. 

"But  there  might  have  been  great  danger;  I  cannot 
bear  even  now  to  think  of  it." 

Elizabeth  closed  her  eyes  wearily ;  her  recent  elation  of 
spirits  was  quite  gone.  She  looked  so  pale  and  ill  that  Mel- 
len  could  not  feel  satisfied  that  she  had  suffered  no  injury. 

"  You  are  sure  that  the  fall  has  not  hurt  you,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,"  she  answered,  in  the  same  changed  voice  ; 
"  don't  trouble  yourself  about  me.  I  was  only  frightened." 

Mellen  could  not  understand  her  manner,  but  he  said 
nothing  more.  She  lay  back  on  the  settee,  and  closed  her 
eyes  while  he  stood  there  regarding  and  wondering  whether 
she  lay  thus  from  weakness  or  to  escape  further  conversa 
tion. 

At  last  the  woman  returned  and  announced  that  the  car 
riage  would  be  down  immediately. 

"  That  are  man  frightened  the  horse,"  she  said  ;  "  I  was 
a  looking  out  of  the  window — it's  my  belief  he's  a  hanging 
about  the  place  for  no  good." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  before  ?  "  asked  Mellen. 

"  Why,  I  think  it's  the  chap  you  was  a  talking  with  one 
day,  Mrs.  Mellen,"  said  the  woman. 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  know  him  ?  "  observed  Mellen, 
turning  quickly  towards  his  wife. 

She  sat  upright,  gave  him  one  of  her  quick,  indignant 
glances,  and  answered  coldly  : 

"  I  simply  said  he  ran  by  me  so  fast  I  could  not  tell 
whether  I  knew  him  or  not." 

"  Wai,  it  was  the  same  fellow,"  pursued  Mrs.  Green  ; 
"  I'm  sure  of  that." 

"  Do  you  remember  ?  "  questioned  Mellen. 

"I  do  not,"  replied  Elizabeth  haughtily. 

Mellen  colored  and  bit  his  lip,  but  he  saw  the  woman 
looking  curiously  at  them  and  said  no  more. 

"I  wish,  Mrs.  Green,"  he  said,  "you  would  take  great 
care  to  close  the  gates  at  night ;  we  are  near  enough  the 
city  for  dangerous  characters  to  stray  down  here." 


THE     RIDE     AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES.      279 

"Law,  sar,  we're  just  as  careful  as  can  be.  There  ain't  a 
night  we  don't  shut  and  lock  the  gates.  I  hope  we  ain't  a 
coming  to  no  blame  ;  I'm  a  lone  woman  and  Jem's  a  crip 
ple.  It  would  be  hard  on  us." 

Mellen  tried  to  stop  her  flood  of  protestations  and  appeals, 
but  she  insisted  upon  telling  the  whole  story  of  every 
misery  she  had  endured  during  her  life,  before  she  would 
pause  in  her  plea  of  sorrow  for  an  instant.  By  that  time 
the  carriage  fortunately  arrived  and  they  were  able  to 
escape  the  sound  of  her  tongue. 

The  husband  and  wife  drove  somewhat  silently  home. 
Mellen  was  very  anxious  about  Elizabeth,  who  had  recovered 
her  usual  serenity  of  temper,  and  could  do  her  best  to  re 
assure  him,  though  the  color  would  not  come  back  to  her 
face,  nor  the  startled  look  die  out  of  her  eyes. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Elsie  was  standing  on  the 
steps,  and  ran  down  to  the  carriage  full  of  alarm,  having 
just  learned  that  Elizabeth  had  met  with  some  accident, 
while  Tom  came  forward  more  anxious  still. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  are  you  hurt  ?  "  demanded  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  assured  her  that  she  was  not  in  the  least  in 
jured,  tried  to  laugh  at  Mellen's  solicitude,  but  looked  very 
nervous  still. 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  hurt  ?  "  urged  Tom. 

"  Perfectly  sure." 

"  Maybe  I'd  better  run  after  a  doctor  though  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,  Tom,"  she  said,  a  little  impatiently,  "  when 
I  tell  you  I.  am  not  hurt  in  the  least." 

Tom  and  Elsie  cried  out  together  to  know  how  the  acci 
dent  had  happened,  but  Mellen  gave  a  very  brief  explana 
tion,  while  Elizabeth  entered  the  hall  and  sat  down  in  a 
chair  to  rest. 

Tom  ran  to  bring  her  a  glass  of  wine  which  she  did  not 
want,  and  they  all  worried  her  with  their  solicitude,  till  it 
required  great  patience  to  restrain  herself  from  breaking 


280      THE     RIDE     AND     ITS     CONSEQUENCES. 

away  from  them  rudely  and  rushing  into  the  solitude  she  so 
much  needed. 

"  If  I  had  hold  of  the  creature  that  scared  the  horse,  I'd 
mill  him,"  cried  Tom,  irately. 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  was  to  blame,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Of  course  not,"  added  Elizabeth  ;  "  of  course  not." 

Mellen  made  no  remark ;  he  was  watching  Elizabeth, 
who  still  looked  pale  and  oppressed. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Much,  I  assure  you  ;  don't  be  frightened  about  me." 

"  Bessie  is  such  a  heroine  !  "  cried  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  gave  one  of  the  irritated  looks  with  which  she 
had  sometimes  regarded  Elsie  of  late,  but  made  no  remark. 

"  She's  a  trump  !  "  said  Tom  ;  "  that's  all  there  is  about 
it." 

Elsie  laughed. 

"  I  shall  go  up  to  my  room  and  lie  down,"  Elizabeth 
said  ;  "  an  hour's  rest  will  restore  me  completely." 

Mellen  assisted  her  upstairs  and  Elsie  accompanied  them, 
quite  ready  to  accept  Elizabeth's  assurance  that  she  was 
not  injured,  and  doing  her  best  to  make  them  both  laugh. 

"  Accidents  seem  the  order  of  the  day,"  she  said  j  "  it's 
lucky  for  us,  Bessie,  that  we  always  have  some  one  near 
to  help  us." 

"  Yes,"'  was  the  weary  reply. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  go  to  sleep  now  ?  "  Mellen 
asked. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  try,  at  all  events." 

"  The  best  thing  for  you,"  said  Elsie.  "  I'll  sit  with  you 
a  little  while,  and  be  still  as  a  mouse." 

Elsie  was  never  sorry  to  escape  from  sickness  or  unpleas 
ant  occurrences  of  any  kind,  and  could  be  of  no  more  use 
in  trouble  than  a  canary-bird  or  a  hothouse  blossom.  But 
just  now  she  had  an  object  in  remaining. 

The  moment   Melleii  had  withdrawn,  she  took  North's 


KINDLY     ANXIETIES.  281 

letter  from  its  hiding-place,  and  thrust  it  into  Elizabeth's 
hand. 

"Thank  heaven  I've  got  rid  of  it  at  last,"  she  exclaimed, 
shaking  the  flounces  of  her  dress  as  if  the  note  had  left 
some  contamination  behind. 

"  How  did  you  get  it  ?  "  faltered  Elizabeth,  looking  at 
the  folded  paper  with  strained;  eyes,  as  if  it  had  been  an  asp 
which  she  held  by  the  neck. 

"  Oh,  Elizabeth,  he  was  in  this  very  room."     . 

"  Here  !  here  !  Great  heavens  !  why  will  no  one  shoot 
this  man  ?"  exclaimed  the  tortured  woman. 

"  I  thought  of  it,  upon  my  word  I  did,"  said  Elsie. 
"  But,  then,  I  don't  know  how  to  fire  off  a  pistol !  " 

"  How  madly  we  are  talking  !  "  said  Elizabeth,  pressing 
one  hand  to  her  throbbing  forehead. 

Elsie  pressed  her  own  soft  palm  upon  the  strained  hand, 
striving  to  soothe  the  evident  pain.  But  Elizabeth  shrunk 
away  from  the  half  caress,  and  said,  in  a  low,  husky  voice : 

"Leave  me,  Elsie,  leave  me;  I  will  deal  with  this  alone." 

The  young  girl  went  away  with  a  sense  of  relief.  Then 
Elizabeth  started  up  in  bed,  tore  open  the  hateful  note,  and 
read  it  through. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

KINDLY      ANXIETIES. 

ELSIE  went  in  search  of  Tom  ;  who  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  veranda,  looking  anxious  still,  but  his  face  cleared 
when  he  saw  Elsie,  like  a  granite  rock  lighted  up  by  a 
sudden  flood  of  sunshine. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  a  great  deal  better ;  she  is  going  to  sleep  ;  that  is, 
if  Grant  will  be  sensible  enough  to  leave  her  alone  ;  you 
men  are  dreadfully  stupid  creatures." 


28^  KINDLY     ANXIETIES. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  replied  Tom,  meekly. 

"  Well !  "  said  Elsie  ;  "  you  might  show  a  little  spirit  at 
least." 

"  I  thought  I  was  to  agree  with  you ! " 

"  There  is  nothing  I  hate  so  much  ;  if  you  don't  contra 
dict  me,  I  shall  die  certainly." 

"  Then,  since  you  want  the  truth.  I  must  say  I  think  you 
are  a  little  hard  on  men  in  general." 

"  And  you  in  particular,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  you  are." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  she,  tossing  her  curls.  "Very  well,  Mr. 
Fuller,  if  you  have  such  dreadful  opinions  as  that,  you  had 
better  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  me ;  I'll  go  away." 

"  Oh,  don't ;  I  didn't  mean  it,"  cried  Tom,  in  a  fright. 

Elsie  laughed  at  his  penitence  and  teased  him  more  un 
mercifully  than  ever,  but  Tom  could  bear  it  now  with  un 
disturbed  equanimity.  She  had  given  him  happiness,  lifted 
his  soul  into  such  a  flood  of  light  as  he  had  never  thought 
to  reach  in  this  world,  and  his  state  of  rapturous  content 
utterly  defied  description. 

They  walked  up  and  down  the  long  colonnade,  jesting 
and  merry,  Tom  unable  to  think  or  talk  of  anything  long 
except  his  new  bliss,  saying  all  sorts  of  absurd  things  in 
spite  of  Elsie's  expostulations. 

"  I  shall  go  in  at  once,  if  you  don't  behave  more  sensibly, 
she  said,  snatching  her  hand  from  him,  as  he  tried  to  kiss 
it.     "  What  would   Grant  think  if  he   happened  to  come 
down." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  sighed  Tom  ;  "  how  long  before  you  will  let 
me  tell  him  j  this  having  to  steal  one's  happiness  is  dread 
ful." 

"  Oh,  you  selfish,  insatiable  monster  !  not  an  hour  ago 
you  promised  to  be  perfectly  content  if  I  would  only  say  I 
might  care  for  you  sometimes,  and  there  now  you  go !  " 

"  I  am  a  selfish  wretch,"  said  Tom,  struck  with  remorse. 


KINDLY     ANXIETIES.  283 

"  And  selfishness  is  such  a  dreadful  failing,"  rejoined 
Elsie. 

"  It  is,  I  know  it." 

"  In  a  man." 

"  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  Tom,  a  little  astonished  at  the  close 
of  her  sentence. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Elsie  ;  *•'  It's  a  woman's  privilege." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Tom,  eagerly,  "  that  women  claim 
a  great  many  privileges,  and  very  odd  ones,  sometimes." 

"  Isn't  it  our  privilege  !  "  demanded  Elsie,  belligerently. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  deny  that  we  haven't  a  right  to  be  just 
as  selfish  and  whimsical  as  we  please,  and  that  it's  your 
duty  to  submit?" 

"  If  you'll  let  me  kiss  your  hand  I'll  acknowledge  any 
thing  you  desire,"  said  artful  Tom. 

*  Then  I  won't,  and  if  you  value  your  peace  in  the 
slightest  degree,  I  should  advise  you  to  behave  more  decor 
ously." 

Elsie  drew  herself  up,  and  looked  as  prim  as  a  little 
Quakeress,  who  had  never  indulged  a  worldly  thought  in 
all  her  days. 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  into  the  music-room  and  sing 
to  me,"  said  Tom,  struck  with  a  bright  idea. 

"  Nonsense,  you  don't  care  about  music  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do  ;  your  voice  is  like  an  angel's." 

"  You  couldn't  tell  whether  I  was  singing  something 
from  Trovatore  or  Yankee  Doodle  ?  "  replied  Elsie. 

Tom  rubbed  his  forehead  again,  fairly  bewildered  ;  but 
whether  he  knew  anything  about  music  as  a  science  or  not, 
he  listened  to  Elsie's  singing  with  his  heart,  and  very  sweet 
music  it  was. 

"  You  shall  teach  me,"  he  said. 

"  A  hopeless  task,  Tom !  And  you  really  have  some 
voice  if  you  only  had  any  ear." 

"  Oh,"  said  Tom,  putting  up  his  hands,  as  if  taking  her 
words  literally. 


284  KINDLY     ANXIETIES. 

"  Oh,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  shriek,  "  they  prove  your  race 
beyond  a  doubt ;  don't  fear." 

Tom  laughed,  good-natured  as  ever. 

"  But  come  in,"  he  urged ;  "  you  will  get  cold,  with 
nothing  on  your  head." 

"  You  are  not  to  become  a  Molly,"  said  Elsie. 

"  I  won't,"  replied  Tom,  "  nor  a  Betty,  nor  any  other 
atrocity;  only  just  come  in,  like  a  duck." 

Elsie  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  for  once,  and  they 
went  into  the  house,  seating  themselves  at  the  piano  in  the 
solitary  music-room,  enjoying  the  hour  after  their  own 
fashion,  with  no  apparent  perception  of  the  shadows 
which  lay  upon  the  hearts  of  the  husband  and  wife  in 
that  darkened  home. 

Some  time  after  Elsie  had  gone,  Mellen  returned  to  his 
wife's  chamber.  She  lay  with  one  hand  partially  over  her 
face,  but  was  watching  him  all  the  while  ;  there  was  an 
eager  expression  in  her  eyes,  as  if  she  longed  to  have  him 
go  away,  but  was  afraid  to  express  the  wish. 

"  Do  you.  feel  sleepy,  Bessie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  so,"  she  replied  ;  "  don't  let  me  keep  you  shut 
up  here  any  longer — go  down  and  play  chess  with  Elsie." 

"  You  will  come  down  after  you  are  rested  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  ;  I  will  be  down  to  tea." 

He  kissed  her  and  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  she  asked,  huskily. 

"  I  have  some  letters  to  write  ;  I  shall  go  to  the  library 
in  order  to  do  it  in  peace — Elsie  is  certain  not  to  come 
there." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Elizabeth,  speaking  with  hysterical 
sharpness,  which  jarred  a  little  on  Mellen's  quick  ear. 


ALMOST     DEFIANCE.  285 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

ALMOST     DEFIANCE. 

HE  was  gone  and  the  door  closed  ;  Elizabeth  raised  her 
self  on  her  elbow  and  remained  listening  till  the  sound  of 
his  steps  died  upon  the  stairs,  then  she  threw  aside  the 
shawls  he  had  flung  over  her,  and  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Not  a  day's  rest,"  she  exclaimed,  "  not  an  hour's — not 
one  !  I  must  go  out  and  answer  the  demands  of  this  vil 
lain.  If  Grrantley  should  meet  me — I  don't  care — I  must 
have  it  out !  I  shall  go  mad  in  the  end — I  shall  go  mad !" 

She  wrung  her  hands  in  a  sort  of  fury,  and  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  with  quick,  impatient  steps. 

"I  might  go  now,"  she  said  at  length;  "he  is  in  the 
library — it  is  growing  dark,  too." 

She  stopped  before  one  of  the  windows  and  looked  one ; 
the  afternoon  was  darkening  under  the  mustering  clouds 
and  a  heavy  mist  that  had  swept  up  from  the  ocean. 

"  Coming  nearer  and  nearer,"  muttered  Elizabeth,  point 
ing  to  the  waving  columns  of  fog  as  if  she  were  addressing 
some  unseen  person  ;  "just  so  the  danger  and  the  darkness 
gather  closer  and  closer  about  my  life !  " 

She  turned  away,  urged  forward  by  the  courage  with 
which  a  brave  person  is  impelled  to  meet  a  difficulty  at 
once,  threw  a  shawl  about  her  and  left  the  room. 

She  ran  through  the  hall  to  a  back  staircase  seldom  used, 
and  which  led  into  a  passage  from  whence  she  could  pass 
at  once  into  the  thickest  part  of  the  shrubbery. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  paused  an  instant,  listened 
then  with  a  quick,  choking  sigh,  opened  the  door  and  hur 
ried  away. 

Seated  in  his  library,  Mellen  found  it  impossible  to  fulfil 
his  task  of  letter  writing.  He  could  not  account  for  the 


?86  A.  L  M  O  S  T      D  E  F  I  A  >T  C  E. 

feelings  which  crept  over  him.  The  quiet  content  of  the 
afternoon  was  all  gone  ;  and  in  its  place  came,  not  only 
anxiety  about  his  wife,  hut  a  host  of  wild  suspicions  so 
vague  and  absurd,  that  he  was  angry  with  the  folly  which 
forced  him  to  insult  his  reason  by  dwelling  upon  them. 

The  confinement  of  the  house  became  absolutely  hateful 
to  him.  He  opened  one  of  the  French  windows,  stepped 
out  upon  the  veranda  and  walked  up  and  down  in  the  gath 
ering  gloom,  looking  across  the  waters  where  the  fog  shifted 
to  and  fro,  like  ghostly  shadows  sent  up  to  veil  the  ever 
restless  ocean. 

At  last  Mellen  passed  down  the  steps  and  entered  the 
grounds ;  he  was  some  distance  from  the  house  when,  he 
heard  a  sound  like  a  person  moaning  aloud  in  distress. 

He  looked  about — the  mist  and  the  coming  night  made 
it  impossible  to  distinguish  objects  with  any  distinctness — 
but  he  saw  the  garments  of  a  woman  fluttering  among  the 
trees. 

He  darted  forward;  with  what  impulse  he  could  hardly 
have  told;  but  the  woman  had  disappeared,  whether  warned 
by  his  hasty  movement  or  urged  forward  by  some  other 
motive,  he  could  not  tell. 

The  thought  in  his  mind  was — 

"  That  is  my  wife,  Elizabeth.'7 

Then  the  folly  of  this  suspicions  struck  him  ;  not  an  hour 
before  he  had  left  his  wife  almost  asleep  in  her  room,  how  was 
it  possible  that  she  could  be  there,  wandering  about  like  a 
demented  creature  in  the  misty  twilight  ? 

"  I  will  go  up  to  her  room,"  he  thought ;  "  I  will  cure 
myself  of  these  absurd  fancies." 

He  entered  the  house  and  ran  upstairs  quickly,  opened 
the  door  of  his  wife's  room  and  looked  in.  She  was  stand 
ing  before  the  fire — at  the  noise  of  the  opening  door  she 
thrust  something  into  her  bosom — a  paper  it  looked  like  to 
Mellen — then  she  turned  and  stood  silently  regarding  him. 

"  You  are  up,"  he  said. 


ALMOST   "DEFIANCE.  287 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  a  little  coldly.  "  Did  you  want  any 
thing  ?  " 

"  Only  to  see  if  you  slept — if  you  were  coming  down 
soon." 

"  I  shall  be  down  directly." 

He  hesitated  an  instant,  then  he  said : 

"  Were  you  not  in  the  grounds  just  now  ?  " 

Elizabeth  did  not  answer;  she  had  let  her  hair  down  and 
was  beginning  to  arrange  it,  shading  her  pale  face  with  the 
floating  tresses. 

"Were  you?"  he  inquired  again. 

"  What  did  you  ask  ?  "  she  demanded. 

He  repeated  the  question. 

"  It  does  not  seem  quite  probable,"  she  said,  walking 
away  towards  the  mirror. 

"  I  thought  that  I  saw  you  there  only  a  few  minutes 
since,"  he  said. 

Elizabeth  was  busy  lighting  a  candle  ;  after  she  had  suc 
ceeded,  she  replied  : 

"  If  you  had  seen  me  in  the  grounds  would  it  have  been 
so  very  singular." 

"  No  ;  only  as  I  left  you  lying  down " 

She  interrupted  him  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  I  am  tired  of  this,"  she  said  passionately.  "  What  is 
it  you  wish  to  know — wh  it  do  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Elizabeth  ;  I  only  thought  it  was  foolish  if  not 
dangerous  to  go  out  on  such  a  night." 

He  was  ashamed  of  himself  now,  but  she  did  not  offer  to 
help  him  in  his  dilemma.  She  stood  silent  and  still,  as  if 
waiting  for  him  to  leave  the  room. 

"  We  will  wait  tea  for  you,"  he  said. 

«  Very  well." 

As  he  passed  near  the  sofa  his  foot  got  entangled  in  a 
shawl  which  lay  on  the  floor  ;  he  picked  it  up — it  was  heavy 
with  damp. 


288  ALMOST      D  K  F  I  A  N  C  E. 

"I  was  given  to  understand  that  you  had  not  been  out," 
he  exclaimed,  holding  it  towards  her. 

For  an  instant  Elizabeth  looked  confused,  then  she 
snatched  the  shawl  from  his  hand,  crying  angrily  : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  was  out — now  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Always  deception,"  he  said,  "  even  in  trifles." 

"  Of  course,"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  same  passionate  tone, 
te  you  make  it  necessary.  I  went  out  because  these  nervous 
attacks  make  me  feel  as  if  "I  were  choking — you  are  so  sus 
picious,  you  see  something  to  suspect  in  the  most  trivial 
action." 

«  So  you " 

"  Told  you  a  lie,"  she  added,  when  he  hesitated  ;  "  well,  let 
it  go  at  that.  Are  you  through  with  this  examination — have 
you  any  more  questions  to  ask  ?  " 

"That  tone  —  that  look,  Elizabeth;  you  are  not  like 
yourself !  " 

"  No  wonder — blame  yourself  for  it.  I  cannot  and  will 
not  endure  this  system  of  espionage — I  will  have  my  lib 
erty — that  you  may  understand  !  " 

Mellen's  passionate  temper  flamed  up  in  his  face,  but  he 
controlled  it  resolutely  and  did  not  speak. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  say  all  you  wish  and  have  done 
with  the  subject,"  she  continued  in  the  same  irritating 
tone,  utterly  unlike  her  old  method  of  parleying  or  endur 
ing  his  evil  words. 

"I  have  nothing  to  ask,"  he  said;  "you  are  nervous 
and  excited — we  won't  quarrel  to-night." 

He  went  out  of  the  room,  Elizabeth  fell  upon  her  knees 
by  the  couch,  and  groaned  aloud. 

"Oh!  I  am  no  longer  myself!  What  wonder!  what 
wonder ! " 

She  drew  a  letter  from  her  bosom  and  began  to  read  it, 
moaning  and  crying  as  she  read ;  then  she  threw  it  in  the 
fire,  stood  watching  till  the  last  fragments  were  consumed, 


THE     TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN.  289 

then  sinking  into  a  chair,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
She  remained  a  long  time  in  that  despondent  attitude,  her 
whole  frame  shaking  at  intervals  with  nervous  tremors,  and 
her  breath  struggling  upwards  in  shuddering  gasps. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  at  length. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  she  called  sharply  ;  "  what  do  you 
want  ?  » 

"  Miss  Elsie  wished  to  know  if  you  were  coming  to  tea," 
said  a  servant.  "  There  is  a  gentleman  come  to  see  Mr. 
Mellen  from  the  city,  ma'am." 

Elizabeth  started  up  and  went  on  dressing ;  as  was 
usual  with  her  after  one  of  those  strange  excitements,  a 
sudden  fever  crimsoned  her  cheeks  and  brightened  her  eyes. 

She  went  downstairs  and  received  her  guest  with  affa 
ble  grace,  which  contrasted  painfully  with  her  late  excite 
ment,  and  before  the  evening  was  over,  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  the  hasty  words  she  had  spoken  to  Melleu,  and 
was  like  her  old  self  again. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

THE     TIGER     IN     HIS     DEN. 

IT  was  a  small  room,  in  one  of  those  mysterious  hotels  in 
the  narrow  streets  near  the  Battery,  which  appear  to  be 
usually  appropriated  to  foreigners,  and  about  which  dark- 
whiskered,  sallow-faced  individuals  may  be  seen  lingering 
at  all  hours  of  the  day,  their  very  faded,  seedy  appearance 
calling  up  images  of  duns,  scant  dinners,  and  a  whole  train 
of  petty  evils. 

The  chamber  was  small,  but  not  uncomfortably  furnished, 
though  the  articles  had  originally  been  of  the  tawdry  fashion 
18 


290  THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN. 

which  such  places  affect,  and  had  probably  not  been  new  by 
several  stages  when  first  established  there. 

The  remains  of  a  fire  smouldered  in  the  little  grate,  but 
the  ashes  were  strewn  over  the  hearth.  The.  torn  and 
frayed  carpet  was  littered  with  loose  cards,  and  the  whole 
apartment  was  in  hopeless  confusion  which  added  greatly  to 
its  original  discomfort. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  small  table  covered  with 
empty  champagne  bottles  and  glasses,  standing  in  half 
dried  puddles  of  wine,  with  a  bronze  receiver  overflowing 
with  cigar  ashes  all  huddled  untidily  together,  and  giving 
repulsive  evidence  of  a  long  night  of  dissipation. 

The  low  bedstead  had  its  moth-eaten,  miserable  attempt 
at  a  canopy  swept  back  and  heaped  carelessly  on  the  dirty 
counterpane  by  a  man  in  a  restless  slumber,  just  as  he  had 
thrown  himself  down,  ready  dressed,  long  after  daylight 
peered  in  through  the  broken  shutters. 

His  appearance  was  in  keeping  with  the  room  ;  a  soiled 
dressing-gown,  that  had  once  been  very  elegant,  was  wrapt 
carelessly  about  him ;  his  black  hair  streamed  over  the 
pillow,  and  gave  an  almost  ghastly  effect  to  his  face,  as  he 
lay  in  that  troubled  dream,  already  pale  and  worn  from 
many  sleepless  nights. 

It  was  a  handsome  face,  but  one  from  which  a  physiogno 
mist  would  have  shrunk,  had  he  seen  it  in  its  hard  truthful 
ness,  without  a  gleam  of  the  fascination  which  it  was 
capable  of  expressing  in  guarded  moments  and  under  more 
fortunate  circumstances. 

The  sleeper  was  on  the  sunny  side  of  mid-age,  but  his 
countenance  was  one  of  those  which  carries  no  idea  of 
youth  with  it,  even  in  early  boyhood  it  was  so  marked  by 
craft  and  recklessness  that  nothing  of  the  abandon  of  fresh 
feeling  ever  left  an  imprint  there. 

It  was  nearly  noon,  but  he  had  not  stirred  or  opened  his 
eyes  ;  once  or  twice  the  dilapidated  chambermaid,  who  per- 


THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN.  291 

formed  a  slatternly  duty  in  that  part  of  the  building,  opened 
the  door  and  peeped  in.  but  her  entrance  had  not  served  to 
arouse  him,  and  she  knew  better  than  to  venture  upon  any 
farther  attempt. 

Suddenly  he  woke  from  a  troubled  dream  and  looked 
about  him. 

"  I  dreamed  they*  were  nailing  me  up  in  a  coffin,"  he 
muttered ;  "  pah,  how  plainly  I  heard  them  driving  in  the 
nails !  " 

He  turned  upon  his  pillow  with  a  shuddering  oath,  but 
that  instant  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  this  time  quick 
and  impatient — it  was  the  first  summons  which  had  caused 
him  that  unquiet  vision. 

"Come  in,"  he  called  out ;  "  the  door  isn't  locked." 

The  man  raised  himself  indolently  on  the  bed  and  looked 
towards  the  door — it  opened  slowly  and  a  woman  entered 
the  room. 

Her  face  was  concealed  under  a  heavy  veil,  but  the  man 
seemed  to  recognize  her  at  once,  for  he  started  up  and  gave 
a  muttered  execration  as  he  caught  sight  of  his  untidy  ap 
pearance  in  the  little  mirror. 

Then  he  hurried  towards  his  visitor,  who  had  closed  the 
door  and  stood  leaning  against  it. 

"  You  have  come,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  so  kind  of  you — 
excuse  the  disorder  here — I  did  not  know  it  was  so  late." 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  a  smile,  but  she  turned  away 
with  a  gesture  of  abhorrence  which  had  no  effect  upon  him 
save  that  it  deepened  the  smile  to  an  ugly  sneer. 

She  threw  back  the  long  veil  and  displayed  her  face — the 
visitor  was  Elizabeth  Mellen. 

"  Pray  be  seated,"  he  went  on,  placing  a  chair  near  the 
hearth  ;  "  this  room  looks  dreadful,  but  I  was  up  late  and 
overslept  myself — had  I  dreamed  you  would  favor  me  with 
so  early  a  visit,  I  should  have  been  prepared." 

She    glanced    at  the  table,  which  bore  evidence  of   the 


292  THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN. 

manner  in  which  the  night  had  been  passed,  and  said 
abruptly,  pointing  towards  the  cards  scattered  on  the 
carpet : 

"Did  those  things  keep  you  wakeful?  " 

He  smiled  complacently. 

"  Nothing  ever  escapes  your  eye,  dear  lady.  Well,  I 
won't  deny  the  fact — we  were  playing'cards  a  little.  I  was 
not  absolutely  fortunate,"  he  answered,  with  another  disa 
greeable  smile;  "but  you  know  the  old  proverb — 'Lucky 
in  love,  unlucky  at  cards/  so  I  never  expect  much  from  the 
mischievous  paste-boards." 

Her  face  flushed  painfully  to  the  very  waves  of  her  hair, 
then  grew  whiter  than  before ;  she  sank  to  a  seat  from 
positive  inability  to  stand. 

"  1  have  brought  you  no  money,"  she  said,  abruptly, 
looking  in  his  face  with  sudden  defiance. 

His  brows  contracted  in  an  ugly  frown,  though  his  lips 
still  retained  its  smile — he  looked  dangerous. 

"That  is  bad,  very,"  he  said;  "I  wonder  you  should 
have  come  all  the  way  here  to  bring  these  unpleasant 
tidings  ! " 

Elizabeth  did  not  answer ;  she  had  drawn  towards  the 
hearth  and  was  pushing  the  ashes  back  with  the  point  of 
her  shoe,  gazing  drearily  into  the  dying  embers. 

"  You  received  my  letter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes — don't  send  in  that  way  again,  or  let  yourself  be 
seen.  You  frightened  me  so  that  I  fell  from  my  horse." 

"  How  sad  !  I  should  never  have  forgiven  myself  had 
any  harm  resulted  from  it,"  he  said,  so  gravely,  that  one 
could  not  tell  whether  he  was  in  earnest  or  mocking  her. 
"You  were  not  hurt  —  nothing  unpleasant  occurred!  I 
despaired  of  seeing  you  in  the  grounds  after  that,  and  so 
went  away." 

She  started  up  in  sudden  passion,  goaded  by  his  attempt 
at  sympathy  beyond  the  power  of  prudence  or  self-control. 


THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN.  293 

"I  wish  I  had  been  hurt,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  could 
have  borne  being  maimed  for  life  had  I  seen  the  brute's 
hoofs  trampling  you  down  as  I  fell." 

He  seated  himself  opposite  her  and  looked  earnestly  in 
her  face.  These  bitter  words  did  not  seem  to  excite  his 
anger — he  was  smiling  still,  and  his  face  wore  a  look  of 
admiration  which  appeared  to  excite  her  still  more  des 
perately. 

"  You  are  so  beautiful  in  one  of  these  moods,"  he  said ; 
"don't  restrain  yourself.  What  a  Medea  you  would 
make  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  glance  which  had  the  menace 
of  a  hunted  animal  brought  suddenly  to  bay,  and  ready 
from  very  despair  to  defend  itself — in  moments  like  that 
many  a  desperate  woman  has  stained  her  soul  with  crime 
— but  her  companion  betrayed  no  uneasiness. 

"  You  don't  like  me  to  say  complimentary  things  to 
you,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  unkind  to  deprive  me  even  of  that 
pleasure." 

"  I  have  no  time  to  waste,"  she  said,  controlling  herself 
by  a  strong  effort,  and  speaking  in  a  cold,  measured  tone. 
"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  you  must  wait — I  can't  give  you 
the  money  to-day — if  you  were  successful  with  those  cards 
you  can  afford  to  be  patient." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  returned  he,  "  you  know  how  anxious 
I  am — how  I  desire  to  put  the  ocean  between  me  and  this 
accursed  country." 

"  You  will  not  go  when  you  get  the  money,"  she  said  ; 
"  you  will  drink,  gamble—leave  yourself  without  a  penny." 

"  So  harsh  always  in  your  judgments,"  he  returned,  dep- 
recatingly. 

"  I  have  no  hope  of  escaping  you,"  she  went  on  ;  "  but  I 
have  one  consolation — you  are  ruining  me,  and  that  will  be 
your  own  destruction  !  My  husband  suspects  me — watches 
me — the  day  he  discovers  a  shadow  of  the  truth,  there  is  an 
end  to  these  extortions." 


294  THE      TIGER       IN      HIS      DEN. 

"  Don't  speak  so  angrily — my  dear  lady  !  I  hardly  think 
your  husband  would  refuse  to  listen  to  reason — yo^ir  proud 
men  will  do  a  great  deal  to  procure  silence  where  a  lady  is 
concerned." 

"  You  know  that  he  would  not  he  silent !  With  his 
home  once  broken  up,  his  peace  destroyed,  he  would  be 
utterly  careless  of  the  world's  knowledge — his  wrongs  and 
his  revenge  would  lead  him  to  desperate  measures." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  What  an  unpleasant  character ! 
Well,  well,  we  must  take  pains  that  he  is  not  enlightened — 
that  is  the  way — you  see  how  very  simple  it  is." 

"  I  warn  you,  this  is  the  last  money  I  shall  give  you  for 
years,"  she  said;  "it  is  only  from  having  these  stocks  in 
my  hands  that  I  am  able  to  do  it  now." 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  forget ;  your  husband  may  give 
you  more  stocks,"  he  returned,  with  a  laugh  which  made 
her  shrink  with  abhorence. 

"  Mr.  Forbes  has  promised  me  the  money  this  week — 
that  will  be  in  time  for  the  steamer." 

"  How  coldly  you  betray  anxiety  to  have  me  gone  !  "  he 
said  ;  "  it  is  really  cruel." 

"I  have  no  idea  that  you  will  go,"  she  returned;  "you 
will  spend  the  money — you  will  demand  more — my  husband 
will  discover  it.  But  at  least  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  there  is  no  place  secret  enough,  no  land 
distant  enough  to  guard  your  life  safely  after  that." 

He  only  received  her  passionate  words  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  and  a  deprecating  wave  of  the  hand. 

"  But  it  is  so  sad  to  go  into  exile  alone,"  he  said  ;  "  if  I 
could  take  with  me " 

"  Oh  !  yon  are  such  a  base,  miserable  coward ! "  she 
broke  in.  "  Such  a  pitiful,  dastardly  wretch !  Don't 
frown  at  me — I  have  never  been  afraid  of  you — I  am  not 
now !  I  tell  you  the  hour  of  retribution  will  come  !  " 

His  face  never  changed,  he  made  her  a  gracious  bow  and 
said  pleasantly : 


THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN.  295 

"You  arc  inclined  to  do  the  prophetess  this  morning — 
but  don't  be  such  a  fearful  Cassandra,  I  beg." 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and  folded  her  shawl  about  her. 

"  I  need  stay  here  no  longer."  she  said,  "  I  have  told 
you  what  I  came  to  say." 

"  Don't  be  so  cruel  as  to  run  away  so  soon,"  he  pleaded ; 
"  give  my  poor  room  the  glory  of  your  presence  a  little 
longer.  You  see  to  what  I  was  driven  before  I  could  force 
myself  to  troubleryou  again.  These  are  not  proper  apart 
ments  for  a  gentleman  ;  you  will  admit  I  had  an  excuse. 
The  whole  thing  is  miserably  humiliating." 

"  I  shall  be  here  on  Monday,"  said  Elizabeth,  ignoring 
his  excuses.  "  I  shall  have  the  money  ready  for  you,  but  I 
will  not  bring  it — those  letters  must  be  first  placed  in  my 
hands." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  going  to  drive  a  hard  bargain,  I  see." 

"  You  have  evaded  so  often,  cheated  me  so  often  ;  I  have 
given  you  thousands  of  dollars — this  is  the  last — take  it — 
enough  to  make  you  comfortable  for  years  if  you  are  care 
ful  ;  but  the  letters  come  into  my  possession  first,  and  that 
paper  too." 

"  You  really  mean  to  have  your  freedom,  do  you  ?  "  he 
asked,  jestingly ;  "  to  sweep  me  out  of  your  life  for  ever ; 
that  is  hard." 

"  Don't  think  to  cheat  me;  neither  your  forged  writing 
or  any  pretence  will  answer  here.  I  tell  you  1  am  desper 
ate  now — you  can't  force  me  down  a  step  farther." 

"  You  are  a  magnificent  woman !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  a 
wonderful  woman  !  I  don't  believe  the  country  could  boast 
another  such." 

She  turned  away. 

"  Now  you  are  angry.     But  let  it  pass." 

"  Remember  what  I  have  said,"  retorted  Elizabeth.  "  I 
tell  you  I  am  desperate  now !  At  least  I  shall  have  placed 
it  out  of  your  power  to  injure  any  one  but  myself.  I  have 


296  THE      TIGER      IN      HIS      DEN. 

reached  that  point  when  I  will  have  freedom  from  your  per 
secutions  or  drag  the  ruin  down  on  my  own  head  while 
crushing  you." 

She  was  in  terrible  earnest — he  was  a  sufficient  judge  of 
character  to  see  that.  It  was  in  her  nature  to  grow  so 
utterly  desperate  that,  whatever  her  secret  might  prove,  she 
would  find  the  courage  to  give  it  up  to  her  husband  and 
madTy  urge  on  the  crisis  of  her  fate  in  all  its  blackness  and 
horror,  rather  than  endure  the  slavery  and  suspense  iu 
which  she  had  lived. 

"  There  will  be  no  need  of  all  this,"  he  said.  "  Place  in 
my  hands  the  sum  you  have  promised,  and  I  will  at  once 
•put  it  out  of  my  own  power  to  harm  you  or  yours.  After 
all,"  he  continued,  with  another  sneering  laugh,  "  I  am 
selling  my  claim  much  too  cheaply ;  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars  is  a  pitiful  little  sum,  considering  what  I  give  up." 

"  You  can  get  no  more — you  cannot  frighten  me  !  If 
you  betrayed  everything  you  would  ruin  your  hopes  of  a 
single  penny.  I  tell  you  my  husband  would  perish  rather 
than  buy  your  silence.  I  know  him — he  might  shoot  you 
down  like  a  dog,  but  would  never  pay  gold  to  bind  your 
vicious  tongue." 

"  Dear  friend,  I  infinitely  prefer  transacting  this  little 
business  with  you,"  he  said,  laughing  again.  "  We  shall 
not  quarrel ;  for  your  sake  I  will  content  myself  with  the 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  but  I  warn  you  I  cannot  wait 
after  Monday." 

"  I  tell  you  it  will  be  ready  on  that  day." 

"  The  letters  and  that  troublesome  little  document  shall 
be  placed  in  your  hands — I  promise  on " 

She  interrupted  him  contemptuously  :  "  There  is  nothing 
you  could  swear  by  that  would  make  the  oath  worth  hear 
ing." 

The  man  bowed  as  if  she  had  paid  him  a  compliment. 
He  was  so  utterly  hardened  that  even  her  burning  scorn 
could  not  affect  him. 


THE     TIGER      IN      II  I  S      DEN.  297 

"Don't  write  to  me,  don't  send  to  me,"  she  said;  "it 
will  only  be  dangerous — more  so  for  you  than  for  me — 
remember  that." 

"  I  can  trust  you ;  I  have  the  utmost  faith  in  your 
word." 

She  gathered  her  shawl  about  her  and  moved  towards 
the  door. 

"  Are  you  going  already?" 

"  That  bracelet ! "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  thought. 
"  You  parted  with  it  of  course — could  you  get  it  back  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  received  your  note  concerning  it ;  we  will  see — very 
doubtful  I  fear.  But  when  I  am  once  gone — even  if  your 
husband  does  discover  it — there  will  be  no  trouble." 

She  turned  her  back  on  him.  He  started  forward  to 
open  the  door  for  her,  his  hand  touched  hers  on  the  knob, 
she  started  as  if  a  scorpion  had  stung  her,  but  he  only  cast 
a  smile  in  her  face  and  allowed  her  to  pass  out. 

"  A  wonderful  woman  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  after  she  had 
disappeared.  "  What  a  pity  she  hates  me  so ;  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  worth  having  at  your  feet." 

He  went  to  the  table,  searched  among  the  bottles  till  he 
found  one  that  still  contained  brandy,  poured  the  contents 
into  a  glass  and  drank  with  feverish  eagerness. 

"  That'll  put  a  little  life  in  me,"  he  muttered.  "  Well, 
there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait.  I  must  keep  myself 
very  quiet.  1  think  I'll  have  some  breakfast — at  any  rate 
I  can  afford  to  leave  this  den." 

He  pulled  out  a  pocket-book  with  a  laugh,  glanced  at  the 
contents  and  put  it  away. 

"  Luck  enough  for  a  parlor  and  bed-room  in  the  best  up 
town  hotel  for  a  week  or  so,"  he  muttered ;  "  pah  !  how  I 
loathe  this  hole  !  " 

North  threw  off  his  dressing-gown,  bathed  his  face  in 
cold  water,  arranged  his  dress  a  little,  and  went  down  stairs 
in  search  of  his  morning  meal. 


293          THE    PAWNBROKER'S    SHOP. 

Elizabeth  Mellen  hurried  through  the  narrow  street  in 
which  the  hotel  stood,  as  if  trying  to  walk  herself  into 
calmness.  Once  she  murmured  : 

"  Five  days  more — five  !  If  I  can  live  through  them 
and  keep  the  tempest  back  I  may  be  safe.  If  I  can  ! 
Such  a  dread  at  my  heart — worse  as  the  time  shortens — oh 
heavens,  if  discovery  should  come  now  when  the  haven,  is 
so  near ! " 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 
THE  PAWNBROKER'S  SHOP. 

WEEKS  had  glided  along.  It  was  now  fate  autumn  ;  the 
gorgeous  leaves  lay  strewn  along  the  ground,  and  the  wind 
sighed  up  from  the  ocean  chill  and  bleak,  scattering 
thoughts  of  decay  with  each  gust.  With  that  gathering 
desolation,  the  coldness  and  the  shadows  had  crept  deeper 
and  deeper  into  Grantley  Mellen's  life. 

He  had  accompanied  Elizabeth  to  the  city,  one  of  these 
chilly  autumn  days,  and  put  her  in  a  carriage  at  the  ferry, 
that  she  might  attend  to  the  purchases  and  calls  which  was 
her  ostensible  errand  to  town,  while  he  went  about  the 
business  on  hand,  with  an  arrangement  that  they  were  to 
meet  in  time  for  the  afternoon  boat. 

Elsie  had  chosen  to  pass  the  day  at  home  ;  indeed,  the 
light-hearted  girl  and  Elizabeth  were  never  together  now 
when  it  could  possibly  be  avoided.  Elsie  seemed  deter 
mined  to  keep  aloof  from  the  mystery  of  the  unhappy 
woman's  life,  lest  its  gloominess  should  cast  some  shadow 
over  the  brightness  of  her  own  path. 

While  Elizabeth  was  absent  on  her  mysterious  visit,  Mel 
len  occupied  himself  with  a  matter  which  would  have  added 
another  trouble  to  the  anxiety  of  that  bitter  day,  had  she 


THE    PAWNBROKER'S    SHOP.  299 

dreamed  of  it.  From  the  first  he  had  determined  that  the 
disappearance  of  that  gauntlet  bracelet  should  be  in  some 
way  explained,  if  it  lay  in  human  power  to  discover  the 
mystery.  What  his  precise  motive  was  he  could  hardly 
have  told.  The  trinket  might  have  been  picked  up  by 
some  vagabond  who  had  wandered  into  the  grounds  ;  if  so 
there  was  little  hope  of  ever  gaining  any  tidings  concerning 
it,  but  Mellen  could  not  satisfy  himself  that  such  was  the 
case  ;  he  believed  the  jewel  would  yet  be  found. 

There  was  some  mystery  in  Elizabeth's  life — of  that  irk 
some  suspicion  he  could  not  divest  himself.  Twenty  times 
each  day  he  went  over  in  his  mind  every  event  that  had 
occurred  since  his  return,  from  the  moment  when  he  came 
upon  her  wandering  so  wildly  about  on  that  stormy  night. 

Twenty  times  each  day  he  convinced  himself  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  whole  catalogue  to  awaken  the  slightest 
doubt  in  any  mind  not  given  up  to  self-torture  and  jealousy 
like  his  ;  yet,  argue  as  he  would,  bring  conviction  as  closely 
home  to  his  soul  as  he  might,  doubts  rose  up  again  and 
haunted  him  like  ghosts  that  had  no  power  to  speak,  but 
pointed  always  towards  trouble  and  blackness  which  lay  in 
the  past. 

If  the  bracelet  had  been  given  to  a  needy  person  for  any 
reason,  it  would  undoubtedly  find  its  way  to  the  hands  of 
some  pawnbroker — that  was  his  thought.  He  reproached 
himself  for  indulging  it — he  called  himself  unworthy  the 
love  of  any  woman  while  he  could  harbor  such  suspicions, 
but  they  would  not  pass  out  of  his  mind — the  treachery 
which  had  wrecked  his  youth  had  sown  the  seeds  of  suspi 
cion  too  deeply  in  his  soul  to  be  easily  eradicated. 

Then  he  compounded  with  his  conscience,  and  decided 
that  he  was  right  in  taking  every  step  possible  to  solve 
these  doubts,  if  only  to  prove  the  innocence  of  his  wife. 
He  kept  repeating  to  himself  that  this  was  the  reason  which 
urged  him  on. 


800  THE 

"I  want  to  be  convinced,"  he  thought  again  and  again, 
"of  nay  own  injustice — it  is  right  that  I  should  endure  tins 
self-abaseraerit  as  a  punishment  for  doubting  a  woman  who 
is  beyond  suspicion." 

Solacing  his  self-reproaches  a  little  by  such  arguments 
and  reflections,  he  had  gone  to  work  in  earnest  to  make  such 
(Discoveries  as  would  drive  these  harassing  doubts  away  for 
ever. 

Among  other  efforts,  he  had  confided  to  a  leading  pawn 
broker  the  details  of  the  affair,  and  it  was  in  him  that  his 
hopes  principally  lay.  If  the  bracelet  was  not  brought  to 
this  man's  establishment  he  had  means  of  discovering  if  it 
was  carried  elsewhere. 

That  day  Mr.  Hollywell  had  nevrs  for  him  ;  a  bracelet 
similar  to  the  one  he  had  described,  was  in  the  possession  of 
an  old  Chatham  street  Jew,  and  they  went  together  in  search 
of  this  man. 

The  old  Israelite  was  dreadfully  afraid  of  getting  himself 
into  difficulty,  but  Mr.  Hollywell  satisfied  his  fears  in  regard 
to  that,  and  assured  him  that  the  gentleman  would  reward 
him  liberally  for  any  disclosures  that  he  might  make  regard 
ing  this  particular  bracelet. 

Then  it  came  out  that  the  bracelet  had  been  disposed  of 
for  a  considerable  sum — it  was  a  sale  rather  than  a  deposit. 
The  man  who  brought  it  there  had  more  than  once  come 
to  the  shop  on  similar  errands,-  and  always  pledged  valuable 
ornaments  or  sold  them  recklessly  for  whatever  would  satisfy 
the  needs  of  the  moment. 

Mr.  Mellen  grew  more  interested  when  he  described  the 
man's  appearance ;  the  keen  eyes  of  the  money-lender  and 
the  sharp  sight  of  the  old  Jew,  accustomed  to  reading  coun 
tenances,  saw  a  singular  expression  of  uncertainty  rested 
upon  his  face,  which  took  a  slow,  deadly  paleness  as  the 
identity  of  this  man  seemed  to  strike  him. 

He  walked  several  times  up    and   down   the   little   deu 


THE    PAWNBROKER'S    SHOP.  301 

where  the  aged  Israelite  kept  watch,  like  a  bloated  spider 
ready  to  pounce  upon  any  unwary  fly  that  might  venture 
into  his  mesh,  and  at  last  returned  to  the  place  where  the 
two  men  were  standing. 

"  Have  you  any  of  that  man's  writing  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Just  a  scrap — I  don't  ask  to  see  his  name — only  a  few 
words  in  his  writing." 

The  old  Jew  looked  doubtful. 

"  Sometimes  he  has  write  me,  my  good  sare,  but  not  often, 
he  ish  very  careful — very  careful." 

"  And  have  you  nothing  by  you  ?  " 

The  old  Jew  turned  to  a  great  desk  that  filled  up  one  end 
of  the  dark  room,  unlocked  a  variety  of  doors  and  drawers, 
turned  over  piles  of  dirty  notes,  and  at  last  selected  a  scrap 
of  paper  from  among  them. 

"  This  is  his  writin',"  he  said,  in  a  guttural  whisper. 
"  I'm  taking  great  trouble,  great  trouble/*'  he  whined  ;  "  de 
good  gentleman  ought  to  remember  that." 

"  You  shall  be  well  rewarded,"  said  Mr.  Mellen  impa 
tiently,  snatching  the  paper  from  his  hand. 

He  glanced  at  the  writing — the  paleness  of  his  face  grew 
death-like — he  stood  like  a  statue,  with  his  eyes  rivetted 
upon  the  page,  while  the  two  men  regarded  him  in  silence. 

The  writing  was  peculiar.  It  had  an  individuality  so 
marked  and  so  increased  by  practice,  that  any  person  who 
had  seen  a  page  of  the  delicate  characters,  could  have  sworn 
to  the  writing  among  whole  volumes. 

Mr.  Mellen  looked  up — the  astonishment  in  his  com 
panions'  faces  brought  him  to  himself. 

"  That  is  what  I  wanted,"  he  said. 

"  I  hopes  it  ish  all  right,"  urged  the  Jew.  "The  good 
gentleman- is  satisfied  !  " 

"  Perfectly,  perfectly  !  Now  I  want  the  bracelet !  How 
much  did  you  receive  on  it  ?  " 

The  old  Jew's  face  changed  at  once. 


302          THE    PAWNBROKER'S    SHOP. 

"  And  I  won't  get  my  reward  ?  "  be  faltered.  "  You 
will  sheat  a  poor  man's  out  of  his  earnings." 

"  Who  talks  of  cheating  you,"  said  Mr.  Holly  well. 

"  I  am  ready  to  pay  you,"  pursued  Mr.  Mellen  ;  "  I 
would  rather  give  double  the  price  of  the  bracelet  than  not 
get  it." 

Mr.  Hollywell  made  a  sign  of  caution ;  such  words 
would  increase  the  old  rascal's  cupidity  to  a  height  money 
could  hardly  satisfy,  but  they  were  interrupted  by  a  groan 
from  the  Jew. 

"  And  it  ish  gone  !  "  cried  he  ;  "  and  so  leetle  paid — so 
leetle  paid.  The  good  gentleman  would  have  given  more." 

"  Gone  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Mellen. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hollywell  angrily. 
"  It  was  only  yesterday  you  told  me  it  was  safe  in  your 
possession." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  knows,  and  so  I  had." 

"  Where  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"  The  man  came  for  it — he  ha.s  brought  his  ticket,  paid 
his  money  and  took  the  bracelet ;  I  was  out — my  boy  let 
him  have  it !  Oh,  my  reward — my  reward  ! " 

"  Shut  your  foolish  old  mouth  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Holly- 
well. 

The  old  Jew  sank  into  a  chair,  still  groaning  and 
lamenting,  while  the  money-lender  turned  to  Mr.  Mellen. 

"  What  will  you  do  now,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing." 

He  looked  despondent  now,  though  the  fierce  anger  that 
had  blazed  in  his  face  at  the  first  sight  of  the  writing 
lighted  it  up  still. 

"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,"  he  continued.  "  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  trouble." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  Mr.  Hollywell  began,  but  Mellen 
checked  him. 

"  It  is  just  as  well — don't  be  troubled." 


TEASING     CONTINUALLY.  303 

He  took  out  his  pocketbook,  laid  down  a  bank  note 
whose  value  made  the  old  Jew's  eyes  sparkle  with  avidity, 
and  hurried  out  of  the  dark  little  shop. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

TEASING    CONTINUALLY. 

ALL  the  next  day  the  house  at  Piney  Cove  was  in  con 
fusion  with  guests  coming  and  going.  This  husband  and 
wife  were  not  once  left  alone. 

Mrs.  Harrington  had  come  up  to  spend  the  day,  and  go 
out  with  them  in  the  evening,  and  Tom  Fuller  was  at  his 
post  as  usual,  though  he  appeared  with  a  very  blank  face 
indeed. 

"  You  look  more  like  Don  Quixote  than  ever,"  was  Elsie's 
salutation,  as  lie  entered  the  room,  where  she  sat  with  Eliz 
abeth  and  their  guests. 

"  How  do  j'ou  do,  Mr.  Fuller  ?  "  cried  the  widow.  "  I 
wonder  you  have  any  patience  at  all  with  that  little  witch  ; 
she  teases  you  constantly  ;  I  am  sure  you  must  be  amia 
bility  itself." 

"  She  won't  have  the  chance  for  some  time  to  come, 
more's  the  pity,"  returned  Tom,  disconsolately. 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?  "  demanded  Elsie. 

"  Because  I've  got  to  go  to  Pittsburg,  and  flounder  about 
in  coal  mines,  and  the  Lord  knows  what." 

"  Have  you  business  there  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  !  Bless  me,  I  was  better  off  when  I 
had  no  property.  I  could  do  as  I  pleased  then,  and  didn't 
have  to  go  about  breaking  my  neck  in  pits,  and  bothering 
over  all  sorts  of  business  that  I  understand  no  more  than 


304  TEASING     CONTINUALLY. 

the  man  in  the  moon — taking  care  of  my  interests  as  they 
call  it." 

"  Poor,  unfortunate  victim  !  "  mocked  Elsie. 

"  The  penalty  of  riches,"  sighed  Mrs.  Harrington. 
"  But  think  of  the  good  they  bring  to  yourself  and  all 
about  you,  Mr.  Fuller." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  returned  he ;  "  I'm  an  ungrateful 
wretch ;  it's  in  my  nature ;  I  need  to  have  my  head 
punched  twenty  times  a  day,  there's  no  doubt  of  that." 

They  all  laughed  at  his  energy  ;  even  Elizabeth  tried  to 
come  out  of  her  anxious  thoughts,  and  confine  her  wander 
ing  fancies  to  the  conversation. 

"  When  are  you  going,  Tom  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Oh,  to-morrow." 

"He  speaks  as  if  it  were  the  Day  of  Judgment,"  said 
Elsie. 

"  And  I  may  be  gone  a  whole  week  or  more,"  pursued  he. 

"  A  small  eternity,"  cried  Elsie.  "  Dear  me,  dear  me, 
how  we  all  pity  you." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  care  a  straw,"  said  Tom,  dismally ; 
t{  you  won't  miss  me." 

"  He  wants  to  be  flattered,"  cried  Elsie. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  be  missed,  dear  Mr.  Fuller,"  said 
the  widow ;  "  you  wrong  your  friends  by  a  suspicion  so 
cruel." 

"  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure,"  returned  Tom,  glancing  at  Elsie  ; 
but  she  was  in  one  of  her  mischievous  moods,  and  would 
not  give  him  a  gleam  of  consolation. 

"  Don't  spoil  him,  Mary  Harrington,"  said  she ;  "  the 
creature's  vanity  is  becoming  inordinate  ;  isn't  it,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  You  can  ill-treat  him  sufficiently  without  my  assist 
ance,"  said  Mrs.  Mellen,  smiling  j  "  I  shall  not  help  you, 
certainly." 

"  That  is  right,  Bess,"  cried  Tom  ;  "  stand  by  a  fellow  a 
little  ;  she  hasn't  a  spark  of  pity." 


TEASING      CONTINUALLY.  305 

"Take  care,  sir!"  said  Elsie,  lifting  her  embroidery 
scissors.  "  Don't  try  to  win  my  natural  allies  over  to  your 
side  by  underhand  persuasions." 

"  I  am  sure  you  don't  need  allies  or  assistance  of  any  sort 
to  be  more  than  a  match  for  a  dozen  men,"  said  Tom. 

"  Another  of  my  womanly  prerogatives,"  replied  Elsie. 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  "there  seems  to  be  no  end  to  them." 

Everybody  laughed  at  his  tone,  and  Tom  sat  down  near 
Elsie,  tumbling  her  work,  and  making  signs  to  her  to  go  out 
of  the  room,  that  he  might  secure  a  few  moments  alone 
with  her,  but  the  little  witch  pretended  not  to  understand 
his  signals  in  the  least,  and  went  on  demurely  with  her 
work. 

"  You  ruin  my  work  !  "  cried  she,  snatching  her  embroid 
ery  from  his  touch.  «  What  on  earth  are  you  making  such 
faces  for  ?  " 

Tom  laughed  in  a  distressed  way,  red  with  confusion. 

"  Dazzled  by  your  presence,  Elsie,"  cried  the  widow,  see 
ing  that  Tom  had  not  presence  of  mind  enough  for  the  com 
pliment 

Elizabeth  began  to  get  restless  again  ;  it  was  perfectly 
impossible  for  her  to  keep  quiet  any  length  of  time  that 
day,  and  she  made  some  excuse  for  leaving  them. 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington  ;  "  I  know 
you  are  going  to  order  luncheon,  and  I  should  so  like  to  get 
a  peep  at  your  kitchen  ;  it  is  a  perfect  Flemish  picture." 

"Particularly  the  crowd  of  dusky  faces,"  said  Elsie. 
"  Mary  Harrington,  you're  a  humbug." 

"  I  am  sure  she  is  quite  right,"  said  Tom,  anxious  to  in 
sure  her  departure  ;  "  I  was  in  the  kitchen  one  day  and  it 
looked  as  picturesque  as  Niagara." 

Elsie  perfectly  understood  the  motive  which  led  him  to 
speak,  and  hastened  to  rejoin  : 

"  If  you  think  it  so  stupendous  you  had  better  accompany 
them,  and  get  another  poop." 
19 


306  TEASING      CONTINUALLY. 

"  No,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  might  disturb  the  colored  persons  ; 
I'll  stay  where  I  am." 

"  Bless  me,"  cried  Elsie ;  "  what  consideration  !  You 
will  be  bursting  into  unpremeditated  poetry  about  the  dark 
future,  before  we  know  it." 

"  Oh,  Elsie,"  said  Mrs.  Harrington,  "  what  a  provoking 
creature  you  are." 

She  followed  Elizabeth  out  of  the  room,  and  Torn  was 
alone  at  last  with  his  idol. 

^  Are  you  sorry  I  am  going  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Do  I  look  so  ?  "  she  asked. 

«  No,  you  don't," 

"  Well,  looks  can't  tell  fibs,"  said  she,  provokingly. 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  be  good  to  me  now ;  just  think ;  I  shall  be 
gone  a  whole  week  ! " 

"  It's  a  calamity  I  dare  not  contemplate,"  replied  she. 
"  Now,  whatever  you  do,  don't  break  your  neck  in  those 
horrid  coal  mines,  or  come  back  smelling  of  brimstone  like 
a  theatrical  fiend." 

"  I  believe  you  would  jest  during  an  earthquake." 

"  If  it  would  stop  the  thing  shaking  I  might,"  she 
answered.  "  There,  there,  don't  be  cross,  Tom." 

Elsie  threw  down  her  work,  and  with  one  of  her  quick 
changes  of  manner  brought  her  lover  back  to  serenity. 

"  If  you  would  only  let  me  do  one  thing  before  I  go,"  he 
said,  getting  courage  enough  from  her  kindness  to  propose 
an  idea  that  had  been  in  his  mind  ever  since  he  arrived. 

"  What  is  it,  Monsieur  Exigeant  ?  " 

"  Just  let  me  tell  Grant  of  our — our — " 

"  Our  what,  stammerer  ?  " 

"  Of  the  happiness  you  have  promised  me,"  said  Tom, 
changing  the  original  word  from  fear  of  vexing  her. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  engagement ;  don't  deny  it." 

"  And  aren't  we  engaged  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  Mr.  Tom  Fuller ;  I  am  just  as  free  as 
air;  please  to 


TEASING      CONTINUALLY.  307 

"Oh.  Elsie!" 

"And  Elsie  oh  !"  cried  she.  "  But  it's  true  !  You  said 
all  sorts  of  foolish  things  about  love,  and  I  let  you  talk,  but 
what  right  have  you  to  say  we  are  engaged  ?  " 

Tom  instantly  became  so  nervous  that  he  could  not  sit 
still. 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  Elsie,  how  can  you  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  Now,  aren't  you  deliciously  miserable,"  said  Elsie ; 
"  that  is  the  way  I  like  to  see  you  ;  it's  your  duty,  sir." 

"  I  wouldn't  think  you  so  cruel  at  such  a  time." 

"  Oh,  wouldn't  you  ?  And  pray  what  right  have  you  to 
think  at  all ;  no  man  has  a  right ;  that's  another  female 
privilege." 

"  You  are  worse  than  the  Women's  Rights  people,"  said 
he. 

"Now  you  are  calling  me  names,"  cried  Elsie,  indig 
nantly.  "  I  won't  stay  with  you  another  moment." 

She  half  rose,  but  Tom  caught  her  dress. 

"  Oh,  don't  go,  don't ! " 

"Go  on  your  knees  then,  and  beg  my  pardon,"  said  Elsie. 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  "  I'll  do  no  such  thing." 

"  Ah,  do  now,  just  to  please,  you  know." 

Down  went  Tom  in  dumb  obedience.  After  enjoying  his 
distress  and  penitence  for  a  few  moments,  Elsie  suddenly 
threw  both  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  whispered  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  are  going.  I  do  love  you  dearly, 
Tom  ! " 

He  strained  her  to  his  heart  with  a  burst  of  grateful 
delight. 

"  And  may  I  tell  Grant  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  said ;  "  wait  till  you  come  back ;  not  a 
word  till  then." 

"  But  as  soon  as  I  come  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  if  you  are  good.  But  not  a  look  till  I  say  the 
word." 


308  THE      PET      MESSENGER. 

She  tried  to  escape  from  him,  bat  he  would  not  let  her  go 
until  he  had  extorted  one  other  pledge. 

"You  must  write  to  me,"  he  said. 

"Now,  Tom,  I  hate  to  write  letters  !  I  never  write  even 
to  Grant,  when  I  can  possibly  help  it." 

"  But  just  a  few  words — " 

"  If  you  will  behave  yourself  properly,  perhaps  yes." 

"  Every  day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  worse  and  worse !  Tom,  get  up.  I  hear  Mary 
Harrington's  voice  ;  she's  the  most  inveterate  gossip." 

"Promise  then!" 

"Yes — yes — anything;  oh,  get  away  !  " 

She  struggled  from  him,  and  Tom  had  just  time  to  re 
sume  his  seat  and  look  as  decorously  grave  as  perfect  happi 
ness  could  permit,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Harring 
ton  entered,  with  her  usual  flutter. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

THE     PET      MESSENGER. 

"  ELSIE,  ELSIE  ! "  the  widow  cried  out,  "  Mr.  Rhodes  and 
the  fascinating  Jemima  are  driving  up  the  avenue ;  the  old 
maid  is  rushing  on  destruction  again  without  the  slightest 
warning." 

"  It's  delightful !  "  said  Elsie.  "  I  shall  tell  her  how  rich 
Tom  Fuller  is,  and  that  he  wants  a  wife." 

"  Don't  set  the  old  dragon  at  me,"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  I  will !  Mary,  you  must  flirt  desperately  with  the 
dear  old  man ;  between  her  desire  to  watch  you  and  be 
agreeable  to  Tom,  the  spinster  will  be  driven  to  the  verge 
of  distraction." 

"  I'll  go  and  find  Elizabeth,"  said  the  widow,  "  and  appear 
after  the  old  maid  gets  nicely  settled." 


THE      PET      MESSENGER.  309 

Mrs.  Harrington  darted  away,  and  just  made  her  escape 
as  Dolf  opened  the  hall-door  to  admit  the  guests. 

The  father  and  daughter  were  ushered  into  the  room 
where  Elsie  and  Tom  sat,  looking  demure  and  harmless  as 
two  kittens. 

"  Here  we  are  again,  you  see/'  said  the  stout  man  ;  "  no 
one  can  resist  your  fascinations,  Miss  Elsie." 

"  Pa  would  stop,"  said  Miss  Jemima,  "  though  I  told  him 
it  was  a  shame  to  come  so  often." 

The  truth  was,  the  spinster's  appetite  had  warned  her 
that  it  was  quite  luncheon  time,  and  recollecting  the  bounte 
ous  repasts  always  spread  at  Piney  Cove,  she  had  graciously 
assented  to  her  parent's  proposal  that  they  should  call. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Elsie,  shaking  hands  as 
if  they  were  her  dearest  friends  ;  "  my  brother  and  sister 
will  be  down  in  a  moment  ;  you  must  stay  to  luncheon,  of 
course." 

"  No,  oh,  no,"  said  Miss  Jemima,  glancing  at  Tom 
through  her  scant  eyelashes.  "  We  couldn't  think  of  it !  " 

"  But  you  must,  you  shall !  "  said  Elsie.     "  Let  me  pre- 
ent  Mr.  Fuller." 

The  spinster  curtseyed  and  looked  grimly  propitious. 
Tom  was  nearly  out  of  his  wits ;  while  Mr.  Rhodes  talked 
to  him  he  saw  Elsie  whisper  to  Miss  Jemima,  and  felt  per 
fectly  certain  that  she  had  given  the  threatened  information 
about  his  being  a  rich  bachelor  in  search  of  a  wife. 

"  And  when  did  you  see  your  charming  friend,  Mrs. 
Harrington,  last?"  asked  Mr.  Rhodes. 

"  The  oddest  thing ! "  said  Elsie.  "  Why,  she  is  here 
now ;  hadn't  you  a  suspicion  of  it,  Mr.  Ehodes  ?  " 

Miss  Jemima's  face  changed  so  suddenly,  that  Tom  made 
a  great  effort  to  keep  from  laughing  outright. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ehodes,"  continued  Elsie ;  "  I  am  afraid  the 
attractions  of  this  house  are  only  borrowed  ones." 

The  good  man  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  blushing  and 


310  THE    PET    MESSENGER. 

pleasant  confusion,  but  the  spinster  brought  him  through 
it  without  mercy. 

"  If  there's  company  we  won't  stay,  pa,"  said  she. 

But  Elsie  would  not  permit  her  to  go  ;  she  whispered 
again  about  Tom,  and  between  her  desire  to  stop  long 
enough  to  fascinate  him  and  her  fear  of  exposing  her 
father  to  the  wiles  of  the  artful  widow,  Jemima  was  in 
terrible  perplexity. 

In  the  midst  of  it  Elizabeth  entered,  and  welcomed  her 
neighbors  ;  Mellen  followed ;  and  after  a  few  moments  the 
widow  swooped  down  on  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Rhodes  in 
spite  of  the  dragon,  as  a  well-practised  hawk  pounces  on  a 
plump  chicken. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Rhodes,  this  is  such  a  surprise,"  she  cried, 
fluttering  up  to  him  with  a  simper  on  her  face,  which  of 
late  years  had  done  the  duty  of  a  blush. 

"  I  dare  say  a  great  surprise,"  snapped  in  Jemima,  sid 
ing  up  to  her  father. 

This  was  exquisite  sport  for  Elsie  and  Mrs.  Harrington  ; 
Tom  would  have  enjoyed  it  more  if  the  spinster  had  not 
beset  him  as  much  as  her  divided  attention  would  permit, 
and  Elizabeth  and  Mellen  bore  the  infliction  as  people 
must  endure  all  things  that  come  to  an  issue  in  their  own 
house,  smiling  and  polite,  however  much  they  may  wish  for 
a  release. 

While  they  were  at  luncheon,  Elizabeth's  dog  ran  into 
the  room  with  a  paper  in  its  mouth.  It  was  the  most  in 
telligent  little  creature  in  the  world,  educated  to  fetch  and 
carry  in  a  surprising  manner. 

This  pretty  creature,  which  seemed  almost  human  in  her 
intelligence,  ran  towards  her  mistress,  but  another,  a  new 
pet  of  Elsie's,  a  frolicsome,  wicked  animal  that  had  quite 
worried  poor  Fanny's  life  out  ever  since  her  intrusion  in 
the  house,  followed  it. 

Piccolomini  sprang  at  the  paper  in  Fan's  mouth,  and  a 


THE     PET     MESSENGER.  311 

contention  ensued  between  them  which  attracted  general 
attention. 

*'  Fanny's  got  a  paper,"  cried  Elsie,  pointing  towards 
her  pets. 

"  It  may  be  a  letter,"  said  Mellen ;  "  Dolf  often  sends 
them  in  by  her ;  call  off  Pick,  Elsie  ;  she'll  tear  it." 

But  Pick  would  not  be  called  off,  and  Fanny  refused  to 
relinquish  her  hold  ;  between  them  the  paper  was  rapidly 
destroyed,  Fanny  howling  dismally  all  the  time,  and  mak 
ing  sagacious  efforts  to  fulfil  her  errand  in  her  usual  trusty 
manner. 

Mellen  went  towards  them  ;  as  he  did  so  Fanny  sprang 
towards  Elizabeth  ;  she  stooped,  caught  sight  of  the  paper, 
and  grew  pale.  Fairly  pushing  Mellen  aside,  she  snatched 
the  paper  from  the  animal's  mouth. 

"  It's  only  an  old  bill,  I  must  have  dropped  it,"  she  said, 
thrusting  it  hurriedly  in  her  pocket. 

Mellen  saw  how  pale  his  wife  had  become ;  he  noticed 
her  alarm ;  he  remembered,  too,  seeing  Fanny  running 
about  the  shrubbery  just  before  he  came  in. 

It  was  another  phase  of  the  mystery,  he  was  certain  of 
that ;  the  little  creature  was  carrying  a  note  to  his  wife. 
He  seated  himself  at  the  table  again,  and  appeared  to  for 
get  the  circumstance,  but  Elizabeth  hardly  looked  like 
herself  during  the  entire  meal. 

It  was  late  before  the  visitors  departed ;  after  that  Tom 
Fuller  was  compelled  to  take  his  leave, — a  heartrending  per 
formance  as  far  as  he  was  concerned  ;  so  the  day  drew  to  a 
close,  leaving  both  the  husband  and  wife  more  preoccupied 
and  anxious  than  the  dreary  morning  had  found  them. 


ELSIE      FINDS      THE      BRACELET. 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

ELSIE   FINDS    THE    BRACELET. 

^  THERE  was  a  dinner  engagement  the  next  day.  When 
Elizabeth  came  down  to  the  library  in  full  dress,  her  hus 
band  sat  moodily  over  the  fire.  He  looked  up  as  she  -enter 
ed,  and  gazed  upon  her  with  mournful  admiration,  for  her 
beauty  that  day  was  something  wonderful ;  unabated  excite 
ment  had  fired  her  eyes  with  a  strange  lustre,  and  lent  a 
rich  scarlet  to  cheeks,  from  which  protracted  suspense  had 
of  late  drained  all  the  color.  Her  dress,  of  rose  colored 
nlk,  was  misty  with  delicate  lace  that  shaded  her  neck  and 
arms  like  gossamer  on  white  lilies.  Star-like  jewels  flashed 
in  the  rich  blackness  of  her  hair  and  shone  through  the 
soft  lace.  The  calm  loveliness  of  former  days  was  nothing 
to  the  splendor  of  her  beauty  now  a  feverish  restlessness 
was  upon  her,— a  glow  of  pain  conquered  by  courage. 

Mellen  arose  from  his  seat  as  his  wife  came  in  wit*  the 
graceful  rush  of  a  cloud  across  tho  sky.  He  watched  her 
approach  gloomily.  It  seemed  to  him  that  her  first  impulse 
was  to  flee  when  she  saw  him  sitting  there,  but  if  so  the 
desire  was  quickly  controlled,  and  she  came  up  to  the  hearth, 
standing  so  near  him  that  the  folds  of  her  dress  brushed 
his  arm. 

«  You  are  ready  too,"  she  said.  "But  it  is  impossible  to 
say  how  long  we  shall  have  to  wait  for  Elsie  and  Mrs.  Har 
rington  ! " 

He  made  no  answer;  she  began  clasping  and  unclasping 
her  bracelets,  but  was  watching  him  all  the  while  from 
under  her  downcast  lashes. 

"Are  you  ill,  Grantley  ?  »  she  asked  at  length. 

"  Oh  !  no  ;  quite  well." 

"  You  are  so  silent,  and  you  sat  there  in  such  a  dreary 
way,  I  feared  something  was  the  matter." 


ELSIE      FINDS     THE      BRACELET.  313 

He  made  an  effort  to  rouse  himself  and  shake  off  the 
oppression — the  heavy,  heavy  weight  which  had  lain  on  his 
soul  all  day. 

"  I  am  only  stupid,"  he  replied,  wifh  an  attempt  at  play 
fulness.  "  I  have  been  forced  to  talk  so  incessantly  to 
those  people,  that  I  have  no  ideas  left.'7 

"  I  am  sure  conversation  with  people  in  general  doesn't 
consume  one's  ideas,"  she  said,  with  a  lightness  which 
appeared  forced  like  his  own.  • 

"  How  long  does  Mrs.  Harrington  stay  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  till  to-morrow.     You  don't  like  her,  I  fancy  ?  " 

"There  is  too  much  of  her  in  every  way,"  he  said,  peev 
ishly;  "she  dresses  too  much,  talks  too  much — she  tires 
one." 

"  That  is  very  cruel  and  ungrateful  ;  the  lady  confided  to 
me  only  a  little  while  ago  that  she  had  a  profound  admira 
tion  for  you,  and  was  dying  to  get  up  a  flirtation,  if  I  did 
not  mind." 

"  Don't  repeat  such  nonsense,"  he  said,  almost  rudely, 
"  you  know  how  I  hate  it.  I  think  either  the  married  man 
or  woman  who  flirts,  deserves  to  be  as  severely  punished  as 
if  he  or  she  had  committed  an  actual  crime." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  would  condemn  the  greater  part  of  our 
acquaintance," , she  said.  "  After  all,  with  most  women  it 
arises  only  from  thoughtlessness." 

"  Thoughtlessness  !  "  he  repeated  satirically.  "  I  can 
only  say  that  the  woman  who  endangers  her  husband's 
peace  from  want  of  thought,  is  more  culpable  than  a  person 
who  does  wrong  knowingly,  urged  on  by  recklessness  or 
passion." 

"  I  have  never  thought  about  it,"  said  Elizabeth 
vaguely ;  "  it  may  be  so." 

She  was  playing  with  her  bracelets  again  ;  the  action 
reminded  him  of  the  lost  trinket.  He  did  not  speak,  but  a 
restrained  burst  of  passion  broke  over  his  face,  which  might 


314  ELSIE      FINDS      THE     BRACELET. 

have  changed  a  plan  she  was  revolving  in  her  mind,  had  she 
seen  or  understood  it. 
It  was  too  late  ! 

That  moment  Elsie  came  dancing  into  the  room,  her 
thin  evening  dress  floating  around  her  like  a  summer  cloud, 
her  fair  hair  wreathed  with  flowers,  and  everything  about 
her  so  pure  and  ethereal,  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  she 
must  breathe  some  more  joyous  air  than  the  pain-freighted 
atmosphere  which  weighed  so  heavily  ou  others.  She  was 
holding  her  hands  behind  her,  and  ran  towards  them  in  her 
childish  way,  exclaiming  : 

"  I  have  found  something !  Who'll  give  a  reward  ? 
Won't  you  both  be  glad — guess  what  it  is  !  " 

Mellen's  face  had  brightened  a  little  at  her  entrance,  but 
as  she  spoke  a  sudden  thought  shook  his  soul  like  a 
tempest. 

"What  is  it?"  Elizabeth  asked. 
"  Oh,  guess,  guess  !  " 

"  But  I  never  can  guess,"  she  replied,  seeming  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

"You  try,  Grant.  Come,  do  credit  to  your  Yankee 
descent ! " 

He  rose  suddenly  and  stood  looking  full  in  his  wife's  face, 
fixing  her  glance  with  a  quick  thrill  of  terror,  which  the 
least  thing  unusual  in  his  manner  caused  her  now. 

Elsie  began  to  dance  up  and  down  before  the  hearth, 
exclaiming : 

"  Oh  !  you  provoking  things — you  stupid  owls  !     Now  do 
guess — oh  !  Grant,  just  try.     Tell  me  what  I  have  found." 
Mellen's  eyes  had  not  moved  from  his  wife's  face. 
"  Have  you  found  Elizabeth's  bracelet  ?  "  he  asked  in  a 
tone  which  made  the  unhappy  woman  shiver  from  head  to 
foot,  and  startled  Elsie  out  of  her  playfulness. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  think  of  that  ?  "  demanded  Elsie  ; 
"  did  she  tell  you  ?  Have  you " 


ELSIE      FINDS      THE      BRACELET.  315 

She  stopped  short,  the  words  frozen  on  her  lips  by  the 
look  which  Grautley  Mellen  still  fixed  upon  his  wife. 
Without  changing  that  steady  gaze,  he  extended  his  hand 
towards  Elsie. 

"  Give  me  the  bracelet ! "  he  said,  in  the  cold,  hard  tone 
which,  with  him,  was  the  sure  forerunner  of  a  tempest  of 
passion. 

Elsie  hesitated;  she  had  grown  nearly  as  pale  a^L Eliza 
beth  herself,  but  she  looked  like  a  frightened  child.  Eliza 
beth  did  not  speak  or  move,  but  though  her  face  was  abso 
lutely  deathlike,  her  eyes  met  her  husband's  with  unflinch 
ing  firmness. 

"  Give  me  the  bracelet !  "  repeated  Mellen. 

"Here  it  is!"  exclaimed  Elsie,  nervously,  putting  the 
bracelet  in  his  hand.  "What  is  the  matter  with  you, 
Grant  ?  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about. 
I  found  the  bracelet  among  a  lot  of  rubbish  in  one  of  Bes 
sie's  drawers — I  suppose  she  forgot  it  was  there." 

Grantley  Mellen  turned  furiously  towards  her. 

"Are  you  learning  to  cheat  and  lie  also  ?  "  he  said. 

Elsie  burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 

"  You  are  just  as  cruel  and  bad  as  you  can  be  !  "  she 
moaned.  "  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  so  to  me  !  I 
haven't  done  anything ;  I  thought  you  would  be  so  pleased 
at  my  having  found  the  bracelet,  and  here  you  behave  in 
this  way.  You  needn't  blame  me,  Grant — I  don't  know 
what  it  all  means  !  I  am  sure  your  dear  mamma  never 
thought  you  would  speak  to  me  like  that !  I  wish  I  was 
dead  and  buried  l>y  her — then  you'd  be  sorry " 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  child,"  interrupted  Mellen, 
softened  at  once  by  this  childish  appeal.  "  Go  away  and 
find  Mrs.  Harrington,  Elsie.  The  falsehood  and  the 
treachery  are  not  yours — thank  God !  at  least  my  own 
blood  has  not  turned  traitor  to  me  !  " 

Elizabeth  sank  slowly  in  a  chair ;  Elsie  stole  one  fright- 


316  ELSIE      FINDS      THE     BRACELET. 

ened  look  towards  her,  then  the  woman  in  her  confusion 
and  dizziness  saw  her  float  out  of  the  room,  and  she  was 
alone  with  her  husband.  He  held  the  bracelet  up  before 
her  eyes,  his  hand  shaking  so  that  the  jewels  flashed  bale- 
fully  in  the  light. 

"  Your  plan  was  carried  out  too  late  ;  you  should  have 
had  it  found  before  ! "  he  said,  and  his  last  effort  at  self- 
control  was  swept  away. 

She  must  speak — must  try  to  stem  the  tide,  and  keep 
back  a  little  longer  the  exposure  and  ruin  which  for  days 
back  some  mysterious  warning  had  told  her  was  surely 
approaching. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  mean  that  the  bracelet  was  found  where  you  put  it ! " 
interrupted  Mellen. 

"  Why  should  I  have  hidden  it  ?     What  reason—" 

"  Stop  !  "  he  broke  in.  "  Not  another  word — not  a  single 
falsehood  more !  You  brought  this  bracelet  back  with  you 
from  the  city — don't  speak — I  went  to  the  pawnbroker's — 
it  had  just  been  taken  away." 

In  the  whirl  of  that  unhappy  woman's  senses  the  words 
seemed  to  come  from  afar  off;  the  lights  were  dancing 
before  her  eyes  ;  the  flashing  gems  blinded  her  with  their 
rays,  but  she  still  controlled  herself.  She  must  make  one 
last  effort — she  must  discover  how  much  of  the  truth  he 
knew — there  might  be  some  loophole  for  escape — some 
effort  by  which  she  could  avert  a  little  longer  the  coming 
earthquake. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak?  "  he  cried.  "  Say  anything — 
another  lie  if  you  will — anything  rather  than  this  black 
truth  !  That  man  ;  you  know  him  !  Speak,  I  say  !  " 

"  What  man  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"That  traitor — that  wretch  !  He  had  the  bracelet;  he 
got  it  from  you !  Explain,  I  say— -woman,  I  will  have  an 
explanation." 


ELSIE      FINDS      THE      BRACELET.  317 

"  I  never  gave  the  bracelet  away,"  she  said,  desperately. 
"  I  have  no  explanation  to  make.  I  will  not  open  my  lips 
while  you  stand  over  me  in  that  threatening  way." 

"  Will  you  defy  me  to  the  last  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  can  only  kill  me,"  she  moaned ;  "  do  it  and  let  me 
have  peace ! " 

He  flung  the  bracelet  down  upon  the  table. 

"  I  have  loved  you,  and  I  know  that  you  are  false  !  " 

"  What  do  you  suspect  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  What  do 
you  know  ?  " 

The  momentary  weakness  of  passion  passed;  the  hus 
band  stood  up  again  cold  and  stern. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  this  bracelet  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  bad,  wicked  man ;  only  yesterday  he  took  it  from  the 
pawnbroker's,  and  now  I  find  it  in  your  possession." 

There  was  a  hope ;  only  in  another  deception  ;  but  she 
must  save  herself;  while  there  was  a  thread  to  grasp  at, 
she  could  not  allow  herself  to  be  swept  down  the  gathering 
storm. 

"  And  is  there  no  possibility  that  I  may  be  innocent  in 
all  this?"  she  exclaimed.  "If  I  receive  an  anonymous 
letter,  telling  me  I  can  find  my  bracelet  by  paying  a  certain 
reward,  is  it  not  natural  that  I  should  go  ?  Knowing  your 
strange  disposition,  is  it  not  equally  natural  that  I  should 
keep  the  whole  thing  a  secret,  and  strive  to  make  every  one 
believe  that  the  bracelet  had  been  mislaid." 

"  Is  this  true  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Can  you  prove  to  me  that 
you  speak  the  truth  ?  " 

She  was  not  looking  at  him  ;  the  apathy  of  despair 
which  came  over  her  seemed  like  sullen  obstinacy. 

"  I  can  prove  nothing,"  she  said ;  "  if  it  were  possible  I 
would  not  make  the  effort.  Do  what  you  like ;  believe 
what  you  please ;  I  will  defend  myself  no  more." 


318  IN      THE      TEMPEST. 

CHAPTER  L. 

IN      THE      TEMPEST. 

MELLEN  turned  away,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
in  silence.  There  was  a  fearful  struggle  in  his  mind  ;  the 
love  he  still  felt  for  his  wife  was  contending  against  horrible 
doubts,  and  almost  threatening  his  reason. 

He  could  not  decide  what  to  think  or  how  to  act !  For 
the  moment  at  least  he  was  glad  to  grasp  at  any  pretext 
which  might  prove  a  settlement  to  the  question,  whatever 
his  thoughts  and  belief  might  be  on  after  reflection. 

He  looked  again  at  Elizabeth  ;  her  stony  calmness  irri 
tated  him  almost  to  a  frenzy.  He  was  too  much  excited  to 
perceive  that  her  very  quiet  was  the  apathy  of  despair ;  it 
semed  to  him  that  she  was  only  testing  her  power  over  him 
to  its  full  extent.  If  her  story  was  true,  she  would  die 
rather  than  humble  her  pride  by  protestations  or  proof;  if 
it  was  false!  There  was  deceit  somewhere,  he  felt  that; 
but  even  in  his  madness  he  could  not  believe  that  Elizabeth 
had  been  guilty  of  anything  that  affected  his  honor ;  that 
was  a  black  thought  which  had  not  reached  him  yet. 

"  Are  you  determined  to  drive  me  mad  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  lifted  both  hands  with  a  strange  gesture  of  misery 
and  humiliation,  which  he  could  not  have  understood. 

"  What  have  I  done  ? "  she  cried.  "  What  have  I 
said  ?  " 

"  Nothing  !  There  you  sit  like  a  stone,  and  will  not 
speak." 

"  It  is  useless  to  say  anything,"  she  returned ;  "  quite 
useless." 

"  And  you  expect  me  to  leave  this  matter  here  ;  to  endure 
this  mystery  patiently  ?  " 

"  I  expect  nothing — nothing  !  " 


IN      THE      TEMPEST.  319 

The  same  dreary,  desperate  wail  pervaded  her  voice,  but 
it  was  not  strange  that  he  mistook  her  coldness  for  obsti 
nacy  or  indifference  ;  the  very  intensity  of  agony  she  was 
enduring  made  her  appear  heartless. 

"  You  won't  explain — you  won't — " 

She  drooped  her  head  wearily. 

"  I  have  no  explanation  to  make  ;  there  is  the  bracelet." 

He  caught  up  the  bracelet,  snatched  her  arm  so  rudely, 
and  fastened  the  bracelet  on  it  with  such  reckless  haste,  that 
she  uttered  a  cry  of  pain. 

"  You  hurt  me,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  this  is  cruel,  un 
manly." 

"  Wear  it,"  he  cried  ;  "  wear  it,  and  when  you  look  at  it 
remember  that  you  have  dug  a  gulf  between  my  heart  and 
yours !  Wear  it,  and  remember  how  you  have  perjured 
yourself;  how  your  whole  conduct  since  my  return  has 
been  a  lie,  and  if  you  have  any  shame  or  power  of  repent 
ance  left,  the  gems  will  burn  into  your  very  soul  when  you 
look  at  them." 

Elizabeth  fell  back  in  her  chair  cold  and  white.  He 
rushed  out  of  the  room.  She  was  not  conscious  of  any 
thought ;  her  brain  was  too  dizzy ;  but  sat  there  clasping 
her  forehead  between  her  hands,  and  seeming  to  feel  the 
whole  world  reel  into  darkness  before  her  gaze. 

"  Has  he  gone  ;  where  is  he  ?  " 

It  was  Elsie's  voice ;  she  had  stolen  into  the  room  to 
learn  how  the  matter  had  ended. 

"  Can't  you  speak,  Bessie  ;  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

Elizabeth  dropped  the  hands  from  her  face,  and  rose  from 
her  seat. 

"  No  matter  what  he  said  ;  the  end  is  coming.  I  told 
you  it  would  ;  the  end  is  coming  !  " 

"Don't  look  so  !  "  cried  Elsie,  "you  frighten  me." 

"  Frighten  !  "  she  repeated  with  intense  bitterness.  "  You 
haven't  soul  enough  in  your  bosom  to  be  frightened." 


320  IN      THE      TEMPEST. 

"  Oh,  you  cruel,  wicked  creature  !  "  sobbed  Elsie.  "  01), 
ob  !  I'll  kill  myself  if  you  talk  so  to  me  ;  I'll  go  to  Grant ; 
I'll— " 

"  Hush  !  "  interrupted  Elizabeth.  "  There  —  I  will  say 
no  more  !  I  don't  blame  you — remember  that !  Whatever 
comes,  I  won't  blame  you  for  this  new  danger.'' 

"  Oh,  you  good,  unselfish  darling ! "  cried  Elsie,  drying 
her  tears  at  once. 

She  made  a  step  forward  as  if  to  throw  her  arms  about 
her  sister,  but  Elizabeth  retreated. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  she  said,  faintly  ;  "  don't  touch  me  !  " 

"  Should  I  poison  you  ?  "  cried  Elsie,  angrily.  "  One 
would  think  I  was  some  dreadful  reptile." 

"  No,  no  ;  don't  be  angry  !  I  need  all  my  strength  !  Let 
me  alone,  Elsie  ;  don't  speak  to  me." 

"  The  carriage  is  at  the  door,"  said  Elsie,  "  and  Mrs. 
Harrington  is  waiting;  for  mercy's  sake  don't  let  her  think 
anything  is  wrong.  I  am  going  to  find  Grant ;  wait  here." 

She  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  Elizabeth  stood  thinking 
over  her  words. 

Very  soon  perhaps  the  whole  world  would  know  that  she 
was  a  lost,  ruined  woman,  without  a  home,  a  friend,  or  even 
a  name. 

Could  she  bear  up  ;  could  she  find  strength  to  go  on  to 
the  end  and  not  die  till  then  ? 

The  hardness  and  desperation  died  out  of  her  face ;  she 
fell  to  her  knees,  and  a  prayer  for  help  rose  to  her  lips ;  low 
and  faint,  but  intense  with  agony. 

She  heard  steps  in  the  hall ;  they  were  coming  for  her. 
She  sprang  to  her  feet,  moved  towards  the  door  and  opened 
it ;  her  husband,  Elsie  and  their  guest  were  there.  She 
answered  Mrs.  Harrington's  careless  words ;  passed  on  with 
them  through  the  hall,  and  took  her  misery  out  into  the 
world  as  we  all  do  so  often,  hidden  carefully  in  the  depths 
of  a  tortured  soul. 


THE     OLD      CEDAR      TREE.  321 

At  dinner  that  day  Elizabeth  met  two  or  three  superior 
people  from  the  city,  men  and  women  of  note,  whose  presence 
at  the  board  was  like  meteor  flashes — kindling  everything 
with  brilliancy;  but  among  the  most  cheerful  and  most 
witty  this  wretched  woman  shone  forth  preeminent.  Every 
word  she  spoke  carried  electric  fire  with  it.  Her  cheeks 
were  scarlet ;  her  eyes  radiant.  The  lips  that  had  been  so 
pale  in  her  husband's  presence  a  few  hours  before,  glowed 
like  ripe  cherries  with  the  sunshine  upon  them.  In  her 
desperation  she  was  inspired,  and  kindled  every  mind  around 
her  with  enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE    OLD    CEDAR   TREE. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  breakfast  the  next  morning,  Mrs. 
Harrington  returned  to  the  city,  perhaps  glad  to  escape  from 
the  unnatural  mental  atmosphere  of  the  house,  certainly 
much  to  the  relief  of  all  the  inmates  of  the  dwelling. 

Grantley  Mellen  drove  his  guest  down  to  the  railway 
train.  The  moment  they  departed  Elizabeth  and  Elsie,  as 
if  by  a  common  impulse,  started  in  a  different  direction, 
apparently  anxious  not  to  be  left  alone  with  each  other. 

Elsie  was  passing  through  the  hall  when  her  brother  drove 
up  to  the  door.  She  stopped  him  after  he  got  out  of  the 
carriage  for  a  few  moments'  trifling  conversation,  then 
allowed  him  to  pass  on  towards  the  library. 

As  the  girl  fluttered  back  towards  the  veranda,  she  saw 
old  Jarvis  Benson  approaching  the  house,  and  hurried  out. 

"  Oh,  Jarvis,  I  wanted  to  see  you." 

Jarvis  took  the  pipe  out  of  his  rnouth,  regarded  her  com 
placently,  and  answered  : 
20 


322  THE      OLD      CEDAR      TREE. 

"  Then  thar's  a  pair  on  you,  Miss  Mellen." 

"  I  want  to  have  a  pair  of  very  light  oars  made  to  the 
little  boat,  so  that  I  can  learn  to  row  it,"  pursued  Elsie. 

"  That's  easy  done,"  said  Jarvis.  "  I  guess  I've  got  a 
pair  that'll  answer.  Only  don't  dround  yourself." 

"I'll  take  care  of  that,"  she  replied,  laughing.  "But 
who  else  wants  you,  Jarvis  ?  " 

"  Your  brother  told  me  to  come  up,  and — oh,  there  he  is." 

Mr.  Mellen  had  heard  voices,  and  came  through  the  hall 
out  on  the  veranda. 

"  Good  morning,  Jarvis  ! "  he  said,  in  his  quiet  way. 

"  Good  morning,  sir !  You  don't  look  very  well,  I 
think,"  observed  the  keen-sighted  old  man. 

Elsie  glanced  at  her  brother ;  he  was  very  pale,  and  his 
heavy  eyes  told  of  a  long,  sleepless  night. 

Mr.  Mellen  frowned  slightly ;  it  displeased  him  to  have 
his  personal  appearance  commented  upon,  and  wounded  his 
pride  to  know  that  he  had  not  sufficient  strength  to  keep 
back  every  outward  sign  of  the  anxiety  and  trouble  he  was 
enduring. 

"  Be  you  well,  now?  "  continued  the  pertinacious  old  man, 
who  had  a  habit  of  asking  questions  and  expressing  his 
opinions  with  the  utmost  freedom  to  people  of  every  degree. 

"  Perfectly  well,"  replied  Mr.  Mellen.  "  You  have  come 
up  about  that  tree,  have  you  ?  " 

"Wai,  yes,"  said  Jarvis.  "I  hadn't  much  to  do  this 
morning,  so  I  thought  I'd  just  come  round  and  find  out 
what's  the  matter.  You  hain't  found  no  gardener  yet  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  have  sent  to  town  for  one.  You  have  sufficient 
knowledge  to  keep  the  greenhouse  in  order  until  one  is 
found." 

"  Just  as  you  say,  sir ;  I'll  do  my  best." 

The  gardener  at  Piney  Cove  had  seen  fit  to  leave  the 
place  a,  few  days  before  without  the  slightest  warning,  with 
the  true,  reckless  independence  of  the  Hibernian  race. 


THE     OLD      CEDAR     TREE.  323 

When  a  dilemma  of  this  kind  arose,  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood  were  in  the  habit  of  sending  for  old  Benson, 
who  seemed,  in  some  mysterious  way,  to  have  acquired  a 
smattering  of  knowledge  about  everything  that  could  make 
him  generally  useful. 

Elsie  did  not  feel  particularly  interested  in  the  subject 
of  conversation,  and  was  moving  off  in  search  of  other 
amusement,  when  she  heard  old  Jarvis  say : 

"  It's  the  big  cypress  yonder,  in  the  thicket,  ain't  it  ?  " 

She  stopped  short  in  the  hall,  and  stood  leaning  against 
the  door  with  her  back  towards  them. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Mellen  answered.  "I  am  afraid  it  is  dying. 
I  want  you  to  dig  about  the  roots  and  see  if  you  can  find 
out  where  the  trouble  lies." 

"Loosening  the  earth  a  bit '11  maybe  do  a  world  of  good," 
said  Jarvis  ;  "  I've  seen  it  'liven  a  tree  right  up." 

"  We  will  try,  at  all  events,"  observed  Mr.  Mellen. 
"  First  you  may  take  those  plants  under  the  library 
window  into  the  greenhouse ;  it  is  too  late  for  them  to  be 
left  out." 

He  walked  to  the  side  of  the  house  to  point  out  the 
flowers  he  wished  to  have  removed.  Elsie  darted  through 
the  hall  and  up  the  stairs  in  breathless  haste. 

She  paused  at  the  door  of  her  sister's  room  and  tried  the 
knob,  but  the  bolt  was  drawn. 

«  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  !  "  she  called  out  in  a  frightened 
whisper,  utterly  incapable  of  speaking  aloud.  "  Open  the 
door — for  heaven's  sake,  open  the  door  !  " 

There  was  terror  in  her  voice  which  communicated  itself 
to  the  woman  sitting  so  apathetically  in  her  chamber. 
She  rose  and  opened  the  door,  whispering,  in  a  voice  full 
of  alarm: 

"What  is  it?     What  is  it?" 

Elsie  pushed  her  back  into  the  room,  shut  and  locked 
the  door,  and  staggered  to  a  couch. 


324  THE      OLD      CEDAR      TREE. 

"The  cypress  tree!"  she  gasped.  "They  are  going 
there." 

"  Who  ?  "  cried  Elizabeth.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  can't  speak — oh,  I  am  choking  ! "  gasped  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  seized  her  arm,  and  fairly  shook  her  with 
frenzied  impatience. 

"  Speak  ! "  she  exclaimed.     "  Speak,  I  say  !  " 

"  Grant  has  sent  old  Jarvis  to  dig  about  the  roots," 
returned  Elsie,  in  a  shrill  whisper. 

Elizabeth  Mellen  sank  slowly  upon  her  knees,  her  limbs 
giving  way  suddenly,  as  if  she  had  been  struck  with 
paralysis.  She  caught  at  Elsie's  dress,  the  girl  raised  her 
self,  and  there  they  remained  for  several  moments,  staring 
in  each  others'  faces,  with  a  white,  sickening  terror,  which 
could  find  no  relief  in  words. 

After  a  time  Elizabeth  shook  herself  free  from  Elsie's 
grasp  and  rose;  the  power  to  think  and  act  was  coming 
back  to  her. 

"  You  heard  them  say  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  cried  Elsie.  "  Grant  sent  for  old  Jarvis  to 
come  up  and  dig  round  the  tree  ;  he  thinks  it  is  dying." 

Elizabeth  threw  up  her  arms  in  silence,  more  expressive 
of  agony  than  a  shriek. 

"  It  has  come  at  last !  "  broke  from  her  white  lips.  "  It 
has  come  at  last ! " 

Elsie  cowered  down  upon  the  sofa  and  buried  her  head  in 
the  cushions,  shaking  with  hysterical  tremors  from  head  10 
foot,  and  uttering  repressed  sobs. 

"  Exposure — ruin — disgrace  ! "  moaned  Elizabeth,  as  if 
repeating  words  that  some  secret  voice  whispered  in  her  ear. 
"  It  has  come  at  last !  It  has  come  at  last !  " 

"  I  shall  die  !  "  shrieked  Elsie.     "  I  shall  go  mad  !  " 

She  beat  the  couch  wildly  with  her  clenched  hands  and 
gave  way  to  a  violent  nervous  spasm,  but  this  time  Elizabeth 
made  no  effort  to  soothe  her;  she  stood  there,  cold  and 
white,  repeating  at  intervals,  in  that  rlisrnnl  whisper: 


THE      OLD      CEDAR      TREE.  325 

"  It  has  come  at  last !     It  has  come  at  last !  " 

"  Do  something,"  sobbed  Elsie.  "  Don't  stand  there  as 
if  you  were  turning  to  stone.  Think  of  some  way  to  stop 
them." 

«  What  can  I  do  ?  "  returned  Elizabeth.  "  I  tell  you  it 
has  come  !  I  knew  it,  I  have  been  expecting  it ! " 

Eisie  gave  another  shriek,  sprang  off  the  sofa,  threw  her 
self  at  her  sister's  feet,  clutching  her  dress  with  both  hands, 
and  cried  out : 

"Do  something — anything  !  I  shall  go  crazy — my  brain 
is  burning !  I  won't  live — I  tell  you  I  won't  live  if  you 
don't  stop  this." 

Elizabeth  shook  off  her  grasp,  not  angrily,  not  im 
patiently  even,  but  with  a  sudden  change  of  expression,  as 
if  Elsie's  despair  'had  brought  back  some  half-forgotten 
resolution,  and  given  her  wild  strength  once  more. 

"  You  will  not  suffer,"  she  said,  drearily.  "  You  are 
safe." 

"  But  you — what  will  become  of  you  ?  "  groaned  the 
girl. 

"  Let  go  my  dress — get  up,  Elsie  !  See,  I  am  calm.  I 
tell  you,  no  harm  will  come  to  you — get  up." 

Elsie  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  with 
a  burst  of  tears. 

"  I'd  rather  kill  myself  than  see  you  tormented  so  ! "  she 
cried.  "  I  have  the  poison  yet — I've  always  kept  it.  If 
they  don't  stop,  Elizabeth,  they  shall  find  us  dead  and 
cold " 

"  Stop !  "  said  Elizabeth.  "  I  won't  hear  such  wicked 
words !  The  danger  is  mine,  the  ruin  and  disgrace  are 
mine — all  mine ;  but  I  do  not  talk  of  killing  myself." 

"  You  are  so  brave,"  moaned  Elsie,  "  and  I  am  such  a 
poor,  weak  thing.  Oh,  oh  !  This  will  kill  me  either  way, 
I  know  it  will !  " 

"  I  know  what  will  happen  to  me,"  said  Elizabeth,  in  a 


326  THE      OLD      CEDAR      TREE. 

voice  of  unnatural  calmness.  "Do  you  know  what  this 
day  will  bring  ?  Before  two  hours  are  gone  I  shall  be 
driven  out  of  this  house,  a  lost,  ruined  woman." 

"  No,  no !     Grant  will  forgive  you — he  loves  you  so  ! " 

"  Does  a  man  ever  forgive  a  wrong  like  that  ?  " 

"  But  you  will  say  you  don't  know — I  will." 

"  Are  you  a  baby  ?  Don't  you  know  there  will  be  an 
exposure — we  shall  all  be  questioned — forced  to  give  evi 
dence." 

"We  will  say  anything — anything!  "  cried  Elsie. 

"  We  cannot  satisfy  Grantley  Mellen.  I  tell  you,  Elsie, 
this  is  the  last  interview  we  shall  ever  hold  under  this  roof." 

Elsie  threw  herself  down  in  renewed  anguish,  shrieking 
and  sobbing  so  violently  that  nothing  could  be  done  or 
thought  of  till  she  had  been  restored  to  composure  by  the 
strong  remedies  Elizabeth  administered. 

"  Promise  not  to  tell  tfiat  I  ever  knew  of  it,"  she  pleaded. 
"  Swear  !  I'll  kill  myself  if  you  don't !  " 

"I  have  promised,"  returned  Elizabeth,  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"I  will  bear  whatever  comes — ruin,  death — and  bear  it 
alone,  you  shall  not  be  dragged  in." 

These  words,  so  solemnly  spoken,  appeared  to  give  the 
girl  new  life  and  energy. 

"Go  downstairs,"  she  said  ;  "  stop  them.  You  can  stop 
them  yet." 

"  How — what  can  I  say  ?  " 

"  Tell  Grant  that  the  gardener  said  the  tree  must  be  left 
till  spring — bribe  old  Jarvis  to  say  so — oh,  anything,  any 
thing  ;  only  try,  Elizabeth.  Save  yourself  if  possible." 

The  woman  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"  They  are  going,"  she  said. 

"  Go  down  ! "  shrieked  Elsie.     "  Go  down,  I  say !  " 

Elizabeth  took  a  few  steps  towards  the  door — caught 
sight  of  her  face  in  the  mirror,  and  stopped  appalled  at  the 
haggard  image  reflected  there. 


WOODMAN,      SPARE     THAT     TREE.         327 

"  Look  at  me,"  she  said  ;  "  my  face  tells  the  whole  story." 

"  There  is  some  rouge  in  that  drawer/'  said  Elsie.  "  Mrs. 
Harrington  left  it.  I'll  put  it  on  your  cheeks." 

Elsie  could  think,  now  that  Elizabeth  showed  herself 
ready  to  bear  her  danger  alone.  She  got  out  the  rouge, 
rubbed  it  on  her  sister's  cheeks,  and  smoothed  her  hair. 

"  Now  you  look  like  yourself — nobody  would  notice.  Go 
quick — stop  them — stop  them  !  " 


CHAPTER  LII. 

WOODMAN,    SPAKE    THAT    TREE. 

ELIZABETH  dared  not  pause  an  instant  for  reflection  ;  she 
opened  the  door,  walked  downstairs,  through  the  library, 
and  joined  her  husband  on  the  lawn. 

He  turned  at  her  approach.  She  felt  a  mad  sort  of 
courage  nerve  her — she  could  speak  now. 

"  What,  planning  against  the  great  cypress  ?  "  she  asked, 
and  even  in  that  moment  of  supreme  agony  and  fear  she 
was  conscious  of  vague  wonder  at  the  composure  of  her 
voice. 

"  It  seems  to  be  dying,"  replied  Mellen  ;  "  I  am  going  to 
have  the  earth  dug  away  from  about  the  roots." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  only  kill  it,"  returned  Elizabeth ; 
"  it  is  so  late  in  the  season." 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  a  gardener,"  he  said, 
coldly. 

He  looked  at  her  standing  there  with  that  unnatural 
brightness  on  her  cheeks,  that  wild  glitter  in  her  eyes,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  she  had  only  come  out  in  her  beauty 
and  unconcern,  to  mock  him  after  the  long  night  of  wild 
trouble  which  he  had  spent. 


328         WOODMAN,      SPARE      THAT      TREE. 

"  I  know  that  is  what  Jones  said,"  she  went  on.  "  He 
thought  in  the  spring  something  could  be  done,  but  not 
now." 

He  was  turning  away — that  action  deprived  her  of  all 
self-control — she  caught  his  arm,  crying: 
"  Don't  touch  that  tree — don't  go  near  it." 
He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  in  blank  amazement;  she 
saw  the  danger  in  which  her  impetuosity  had  placed  her — 
dropped  his  arm  and  tried  to  appear  composed  again. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  asked.  "The  tree 
is  not  a  human  being  that  I  am  going  to  assassinate." 

She  forced  herself  to  laugh  ;  even  then  the  woman's  self- 
mastery  was  something  astounding. 

"  I  was  a  little  theatrical,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  can't  bear 
to  have  the  old  tree  touched." 

"  Why,  marm,  it'll  die  if  it  aint,"  put  in  Jarvis,  who 
considered  that  he  had  been  silent  quite  long  enough. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  the  matter ! "  cried 
Elizabeth,  sharply. 

The  old  man  drew  himself  up,  and  looked  so  indignant 
that  she  felt  sure  he  would  oppose  her  now  with  might  and 
main. 

"I  mean/'  she  added,  "you  don't  know  how  I  feel  about 
it,  I  want  the  poor  thing  left  alone." 

The  old  man  relinquished  his  erect  attitude  and  looked 
somewhat  mollified. 

"  If  it's  yer  whim,  marm,  that's  another  thing,  but  I 
thought  I'd  lived  too  long  in  this  neighborhood  for  anybody 
to  accuse  me  of  not  knowing  a  thing  when  I  pretended  to, 
especially  about  trees." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  interrupted  she ;  "  I  always  knew  that  you 
were  a  universal  genius,  a  better  gardener  than  half  the 
professed  ones." 

"Wai,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Jarvis,  his  face 
beaming  all  over  with  satisfaction,  for  the  old  man  was 
peculiarly  susceptible  to  flattery. 


WOODMAN,      SPARE      THAT      TREE.         329 

"  Then  you  won't  touch  the  tree  ? "  cried  Elilzabeth, 
turning  again  towards  her  husband. 

Mr.  Mellen  had  been  watching  her  while  she  talked  j 
he  was  growing  more  and  more  angry  now,  thinking  that 
she  only  wished  to  interfere  unwarrantably  with  his  plans. 

"You  will  leave  the  tree  till  spring?  "  she  continued. 

"  I  shall  have  the  earth  loosened,"  he  answered,  "  I  don't 
choose  to  sacrifice  the  tree  to  a  mere  caprice." 

"It  is  not  a  caprice,"  she  exclaimed,  forgetting  herself 
once  more.  "  I  ask  you  not  to  touch  it — I  beg  you  not  to 
touch  it !  " 

"  Might  I  ask  the  reason  of  your  extraordinary  con 
duct  ?  "  he  began  ;  then  remembering  old  Benson's  presence? 
checked  himself  quickly. 

"I  think  it  the  best  thing  for  the  tree,"  he  added. 

"  But  Jones  did  not  think  so,  and  he  ought  to  know." 

"I  fancy  he  said  that  to  avoid  the  work." 

"  No,  no  !  In  the  spring  you  can  do  it — not  now — not 
now." 

"  By  spring  it  will  be  too  late ;  the  earth  must  be  dug 
away  now." 

She  clasped  her  hands  under  her  shawl,  resolved  to  make 
one  effort  more — a  respite  must  be  found — for  a  day,  at 
least. 

She  looked  out  toward  the  tree — the  lower  part  of  it  was 
hidden,  where  they  stood,  by  a  thicket  of  shrubs  and 
bushes,  but  the  stately  top  towered  up  dark  and  solemn, 
waving  in  the  morning  breeze  and  seeming  to  whisper  an 
omen  of  dread  to  her  half  maddened  senses. 

"  Not  to-day,"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  at  least  do  riot  touch  it 
to-day." 

His  suspicious  mind,  so  wildly  on  the  alert  since  the 
strange  events  of  the  past  week,  was  now  fully  aroused  by 
the  singular  earnestness  and  trouble  of  her  manner. 

There  was  another  secret !     It  was  no  desire  to  contradict 


330        WOODMAN,      SPARE     THAT     TREE. 

him  which  actuated  her — there  was  something  at  the  bottom 
which  he  could  not  understand — a  new  phase  of  the  mystery 
with  which  he  had  felt  himself  surrounded  from  the  first 
moment  of  his  arrival,  and  which  had  gathered  and  dark 
ened  so  rapidly  during  the  past  week. 

"  Leave  the  tree  at  least  to-day,"  pleaded  Elizabeth. 

"  I  can't  send  for  Jarvis  and  put  him  off  without  a 
reason,"  he  said ;  "  he  has  plenty  of  work  on  his  hands." 

"  It  can't  make  no  difference,  Miss  Mellen,"  the  old  man 
joined  in  ;  "  'tain't  no  use  to  put  it  off — anyhow  I  couldn't 
come  again  till  the  last  of  the  week." 

"  Let  it  go  till  then,"  she  said,  eagerly  ;  and  new  life 
stole  over  her  face  at  the  bare  hope  of  obtaining  that  delay. 

"  This  is  sheer  folly,"  said  her  husband.  "  Go  in — go  in. 
You  will  catch  cold — the  grass  is  damp.  Come,  Jarvis,  get 
your  spade." 

"  It  won't  hurt  the  tree  a  spec,  Miss  Mellen,"  said  he ; 
"  don't  feel  oneasy  about  it — I'll  be  as  tender  of  it  as  if  it 
was  a  baby." 

He  moved  away  as  he  spoke,  and  left  the  husband  and 
wife  together.  Elizabeth  was  pale  even  through  her  artifi 
cial  bloom — no  matter  what  he  thought,  she  must  obtain 
some  delay. 

"  Grantley,"  she  cried,  "  don't  touch  the  tree — I  ask  it  as 
a  favor — you  will  not  refuse — let  it  stand  as  it  is." 

He  gave  one  look  at  her  face  and  turned  his  head  away 
to  hide  the  expression  of  anger  and  doubt  which  crept  over 
his  own. 

"  Can  you  give  any  reason  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  It  is  one  of  my  fancies — only  gratify  it — let 
the  tree  alone  for  a  day  or  two  at  least." 

Fierce  passion  shook  Mellen  like  a  sudden  tempest.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  drag  her  into  the  house  and  force  from 
her  lips  the  secret  and  the  mystery  which  surrounded  her, 
but  he  controlled  the  impulse  and  answered : 


WOODMAN,      SPARE      THAT      TREE.        331 

"  As  you  please.     I  will  leave  it  for  the  present." 

With  this  curt  concession  Mellen  walked  away,  and  Eliza 
beth  went  back  into  the  house.  She  paused  to  rest  a  few 
moments  in  the  library;  her  limbs  were  shaking  so  violently 
that  they  refused  to  support  her.  She  was  roused  by  the 
sound  of  her  husband's  voice  in  conversation  with  old 
Benson — he  might  come  in  and  find  her  there. 

She  started  up  like  a  wounded  animal  that  concentrates 
its  dying  strength  in  one  wild  effort  for  escape — hurried 
from  the  room  and  up  the  stairs  into  her  own  chamber. 

Elsie  was  still  lying  on  the  sofa ;  she  sprang  up  as  Eliza 
beth  entered. 

"  Will  he  leave  it  ?  "  she  cried.     "  Will  he  leave  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  promised." 

Elizabeth  sank  in  a  chair,  so  broken  down  by  agony  that 
it  might  have  softened  the  heart  of  her  deadliest  enemy 
could  he  have  seen  her  then. 

"  Saved  again  ! "  cried  Elsie.  "  Don't  despair,  Bessie — it 
will  all  end  right." 

"  Saved  !  "  repeated  Elizabeth.  "  Have  you  thought 
what  must  be  done  before  I  can  breathe  again  ?  " 

Elsie  gave  a  cry  and  hid  her  face. 

"  Be  still ! "  said  Elizabeth.     "  I  will  do  it— be  still !  " 

"  Don't  let  me  know — don't  tell  me — I  should  die  of 
fright ! " 

"Think  of  me,  then,"  she  returned.  "In  the  night — 
alone  with  that what  can  I  do  ?  " 

Elsie  interrupted  her  with  another  cry  and  her  old  appeal 
ing  wail. 

"  You  are  killing  me  !     You  are  killing  me  !  " 

"  Be  still,"  repeated  Elizabeth,  in  the  same  awful  voice. 
"Be  still!" 


332 


CHAPTER  LIU. 


MELLEN  set  old  Benson  about  some  other  duties  and  went 
into  the  library.  While  he  stood  at  one  of  the  windows, 
looking  gloomily  out  on  the  autumn  landscape,  he  heard  the 
voices  of  'Dolf  and  his  spinster  inamorata  in  the  area 
below. 

"  What's  marster  gwine  to  have  done  to  de  tree  ? "  Clo 
asked. 

"  He's  afeared  it's  deceasing"  replied  Dolf,  pompously, 
"  and  he  wishes  to  perwent." 

"  Don't  come  none  o'  yer  furrin  lingo  over  me/'  said 
Clorinda,  angrily.  "  Can't  yer  say  what  he's  gwine  to  do, 
widout  any  of  dem  dern  outlandish  Spanish  'spressions." 

"  'Twaru't  Spanish,  lubly  one,"  said  'Dolf,  greatly  de 
lighted  at  the  effect  his  grandiloquent  language  had  pro 
duced.  "  Sometimes  I  do  'dulge  in  far  away  tongues  jist 
from  habit ;  its'  trabeling  so  much,  you  know." 

"  Don't  know  nothin'  about  it,"  and  don't  want  to," 
interrupted  Clorinda.  "  Ef  yer  can't  answer  a  civil  ques 
tion  as  it  outer  be,  yer  needn't  stay  round  dis  part  of  de 
house." 

"  Don't  be  ravagerous,"  returned  Dolf.  "  Any  question 
ob  yours  it  is  my  delight  to  answer,  only  propose  it." 

"  I  does,  plainly  enough.  What's  marster  gwine  to  have 
done  to  dat  ar  ole  tree  ?  " 

K  Hab  de  airth  dug  up,"  said  Dolf,  deeming  it  wiser  to 
use  a  more  simple  phraseology  ;  "  he's  'feared  it's  dying." 

Mellen  was  about  to  order  them  away  from  that  part  of 
the  house — the  veriest  trifle  irritated  him  now — when  Clo- 
rinda's  next  words  made  him  pause. 

"  I  wish  he'd  hev  it  dug  up  by  the  roots,"  she  said ;  "  I 
do  'lieve  dat  ar  tree  is  haunted." 


CLORINDA'S    GHOST    STORY.  333 

"Haunted!"  screamed  Dolf,  who  possessed  a  large  share 
of  the  superstition  of  his  race.  "  Now  what  does  yer  mean, 
Miss  Clorindy  ?  " 

"  Jes'  what  I  ses,"  replied  she  sharply  ;  "  I  ain't  one  ob 
de  kind  dat  tittervates  up  my  words  till  dey  haint  got  no 
sense  left.'7 

"  But  I  never  heerd  of  a  haunted  tree,"  said  Dolf,  gain 
ing  new  courage  as  he  remembered  that  it  was  broad  day 
light.  "  Haunted  houses  I've  heerd  on  in  plenty ;  but  a 
tree " 

"  Oh,  mebby  yer  don't  know  eberything  yet !  "  said  Clo; 
viciously. 

Clo  had  been  rather  short  with  her  lover  of  late,  having 
interrupted  several  private  flirtations  of  Victoria,  with  the 
faithless  one. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  yer  mean,  Clorindy,"  pleaded  Dolf, 
his  eyes  fairly  started  out  of  his  head  with  curiosity. 

"  Oh,  mebby  you'd  better  go  to  Vic,"  she  retorted,  "  she's 
a  heap  cuter  dan  what  I  be.  I  ain't  coffee-colored,  I'se 
only  a  nigger." 

"Now,  Miss  Clorindy!"  cried  Dolf,  understanding  that 
this  was  an  occasion  when  flattery  and  soft  words  were 
absolutely  necessary.  "  You  know  Fse  ales  in  for  de  gen 
uine  article." 

"Don't  know  nothin'  ob  de  sort,"  said  Clo.  "I  kinfc 
flirty  and  flighty  about  like  some  folks ;  but,  anyhow,  I 
ain't  fool  enough  to  put  all  my  wages  on  my  back.  I 
guess  marster  cud  tell  what  I've  got  in  de  bank." 

That  allusion  to  her  golden  charms  drove  the  youthful 
graces  of  Victoria  quite  out  of  Dolf 's  head.  He  grew  more 
tender  and  submissive  at  once. 

"  Yer's  de  pearl  ob  de  creation  !  "  he  cried  enthusias 
tically. 

Mellen  stamped  his  foot  passionately,  furious  with  their 
nonsense,  upbraiding  himself  that  he  could  listen  to  the 


334  CLORINDA'S    GHOST    STORY. 

conversation  of  his  own  servants,  yet  unable  to  move  away 
without  hearing  the  revelation  which  Clorinda  evidently 
had  to  make. 

After  a  little  more  persuasive  eloquence  which  began  to 
restore  Clorinda's  good-humor,  Dolf  said : 

"  But  do  tell  me  what  yer  means  'bout  de  tree  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Clorinda,  mysteriously  ;  "  it's  one  ob  dem 
tings  as  is  best  not  talked  'bout.  I  don't  run  and  tell  all 
I  sees  and  hears." 

"  Jis'  confide  in  my  buzzom,"  said  Dolf,  tenderly. 

"  Men  is  so  duberous,  'specially  dem  as  brags  'bout  der 
mean  white  blood,  which  comes  out  coppery  any  how,"  said 
Clorinda. 

"  Yer  knows  I'se  de  most  faithful  and  Constance  ob  my 
sect,"  cried  Dolf.  "  Yer  may  speak  freely  to  me." 

"  I  'spose  yer'd  say  de  same  to  Vic." 

"  Neber,  Miss  Clorindy  !  What,  dat  silly,  giggling  girl 
—don't  tink  it !  " 

His  persuasions  met  with  their  reward  at  last ;  he  pleaded 
again  : 

"  Jis'  tell  me  what  yer  means  'bout  de  tree  bein7 
haunted  ?  " 

She  yielded  to  his  flattery  and  her  feminine  desire  to  tell 
all  that  she  had  seen  or  imagined  about  the  old  cedar. 

"  Mebby  'twas  two  months  'fore  you  came  back,"  she 
said,  in  the  tone  of  a  person  trying  to  be  exact  in  her 
recollection  of  events. 

"  What  was?  "  cried  Dolf,  impatiently,  "  de  hauntin'  ?  " 

"  Ef  I'm  gwine  to  tell  you  my  story  I'll  do  it  in  my  own 
way,"  said  Clorinda,  majestically. 

"  In  course,  in  course,"  returned  Dolf.  "  I  begs  pardon 
for  de  'ruption.  Jis'  go  on,  sweetest  Miss  Clo'." 

"  I  tells  yer  dar's  been  somethin'  agoing  on  in  dis  house," 
pursued  Clorinda.  "  Dat  ar  bracelet  losing  was  all  of  a 
piece  wid  what  went  afore.  Missus  was  awful  mad  at  me 


CLOKINDA'S    GHOST    STORY.  335 

for  saying  so,  but  I  don't  care.  She's  queer — stuck  up  like. 
There's  Miss  Elsie,  sweet  allers  as  a  young  kitten  ! " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Dolf  said,  ready  to  agree  with  anything  in 
order  to  get  at  the  heart  of  Clorinda's  mystery. 

"  Afore  ever  dat  ring  was  lost  I  seed  a  man  in  de  house 
in  de  dead  ob  de  night — a  man  and  a  woman  !  " 

"  G-ood  gracious  !  "  cried  Dolf. 

"  I'd  had  de  toothache,  and  ben  down  to  de  kitchen  fire 
a  srnokin'  pennyryal,  and  awful  sick  it  made  me.  I  was 
gwine  up  de  back  stairs,  when  I  heard  steps  in  de  hall.  I 
looked  in  and  I  seed  a  man  and  woman  plain.  I  had  de 
candle  in  my  hand.  I  screeched  right  out,  and  shut  my 
eyes,  and  let  de  candle  fall.  When  I  opened  'em  again 
missus  had  come  out  of  her  room,  wid  a  shawl  over  her  and 
a  lamp  in  her  hand. 

"  '  What  yer  doin'  dar  ?  '  says  she. 

"  I  up  and  telled  her  'bout  de  man  and  woman,  and  she 
larfed  in  my  face. 

" '  Whar  be  dey?'  says  she.  '  Dar's  nobody  here  but 
us.' 

"'Twarn't  no  use  to  say  nothin',  she  flew  off  into  one  o' 
her  tantrums,  and  scolded  me  like  all  possessed.  I  don't 
like  her,  anyhow,  and  dat's  all  'bout  it ! " 

"  But  is  dat  all  ?  "  questioned  Dolf,  in  a  disappointed 
tone. 

"  No,  it  ain't  all ;  jis'  wait  and  don't  go  off  de  handle 
afore  you  knows  which  end  you've  got  hold  on." 

"But  de  tree,  Clorindy,"  said  Dolf;  "  tell  me  'bout  de 
tree." 

"  I'se  comin'  to  dat,"  replied  Clo,  growing  eager  a^ain. 
"  I'd  ben  down  to  see  Dinah  Jameson,  at  de  cross  roads ;  it 
was  real  late  ;  we'd  had  a  prayer  meetin'  and  I  kinder  forgot 
myself  in  de  refreshin'  season " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dolf,  fearing  she  would  go  off  in  a  long 
digression  and  lose  sight  of  the  all-important  topic,  "  dey  is 


836  CLORINDA'S    GHOST    STORY. 

refreshin' ;  as  preserves  is  to  de  taste  so  is  meetin's  to  de 
spirit — soothin',  yer  know." 

"  Jis'  so/7  said  Clorinda. 

"  Wai,  yer  was  comin'  home,"  suggested  Dolf. 

"  Yes ;  two  or  tree  on  'em  came  with  me  to  de  gate  and 
dar  dey  left  me.  I  heeled  it  up  de  avenue  jis'  as  hard  as  I 
could,  but  when  I  got  near  de  house  I  thort,  suppose  missus 
should  see  me,  she's  a  pokiri  up  at  all  hours,  she'd  scold  me 
like  smoke.  I  jis'  cut  out  oh  de  road  to  take  de  path  trough 
de  thicket,  and  came  in  sight  ob  de  ole  cypress  tree." 

Clorinda  broke  off  abruptly  to  recover  her  breath  and  to 
allow  her  narrative  to  have  its  full  effect  upon  her  listener. 

"  Go  on  ;  oh,  do  go  on  !  "  cried  Dolf. 

Could  the  pair  have  seen  the  face  leaning  over  the 
balcony,  straining  to  catch  every  word,  they  might  almost 
have  thought  that  one  of  the  ghosts  they  so  dreaded  had 
started  up  before  them. 

"  I  came  in  sight  ob  de  cypress  tree,"  recommenced  Clo, 
working  up  her  story  to  a  climax  with  great  art. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Dolf  again.     "  In  sight  ob  de  tree " 

"  I  seed  somethin'  all  in  white  a  couchin'  down  dar,  a 
throwin'  up  its  arms  and  moaning  like.  I  jis'  give  one  yell 
and  danced  away.  When  I  got  to  de  house,  what  do  you 
tink  ?  dar  was  missus.  Whar  she  come  from  I  don't  know, 
and  she  give  me  goose  again  for  screaming ;  but  la !  she 
was  white  as  a  dead  woman  all  de  while." 

"  What  could  it  all  a  ben  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  more'n  you.  The  next  morning  she  sent 
for  me,  and  she  telled  me  she'd  hev  to  send  me  away  ef  I 
didn't  quit  dat  habit  of  bein'  up  so  late  and  skeerin'  de  gals 
wid  stories  'bout  ghosts  ;  so  I  jis'  held  my  tongue." 

"  And  had  you  ebber  seed  any  tink  more  ?  " 

"  Laws,  I  wouldn't  go  near  dat  tree  after  dark  for  all  de 
money  on  Long  Island !  I  tells  you  dar's  sometin'  queer 
somewhar." 


THE      SABLE      FORTUNE      HUNTER.         337 

"  So  dar  is,"  assented  Dolf,  in  a  perplexed  manner,  "  dar 
is,  sure." 

"  Don't  yer  say  nothin',  'cause  I'd  get  my  walkin'  papers 
ef  yer  did.  But  ef  you're  so  mighty  wise,  jis'  tell  me  what 
yer  makes  ob  all  dis  mysteriousness  ?  " 

"  Clorindy,"  said  Dolf,  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  ghostesses  is  a 
subject  'taint  proper  to  talk  on,  and  the  queernesses  ob  our 
marsters  and  misseses  is  not  tropics  for  us." 

"  A  body  must  wonder,  I  s'pose,  black  or  white,"  said 
Clo,  angrily. 

"  But  dat's  all  you've  seen  ?  " 

"  Dat's  all,  and  it's  'nuff  and  more  too." 

Grantley  Mellen  stepped  back  into  the  library  and  closed 
the  window.  He  had  need  to  be  alone.  Every  day,  every 
hour,  the  mystery  which  had  intruded  into  his  home  deep 
ened  and  took  more  appalling  shapes. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE    SABLE    FORTUNE    HUNTER. 

THE  pair  of  sable  retainers  went  on  with  their  conversa 
tion,  totally  unconscious  of  a  listener,  and  when  the  interest 
connected  with  that  subject  had  culminated,  diverged  to 
themes  more  intimately  connected  with  their  own  affairs. 

One  of  the  chief  desires  of  Dolf 's  soul  was  to  find  out 
exactly  how  much  money  Clorinda  had  in  the  bank,  but  he 
had  never  been  able,  with  all  his  arts,  to  bring  her  to  that 
degree  of  confidence  necessary  to  make  him  a  partner 
in  that  dearest  secret  of  her  life. 

The  other  servants  and  her  friends  in  the  neighborhood 
gave  very  contradictory  accounts  concerning  the  amount,  and 
Victoria  openly  avowed  her  belief  that — 
21 


338         THE      SABLE      FORTUNE      HUNTER. 

"De  whole  ting  was  just  gammon — didn't  b'lieve  she 
had  no  money  no  whar — she  know'd  she  was  so  old  dat  it 
was  her  only  chance  of  ketch  in'  a  beau,  so  she  tried  it  on ; 
dat  was  'bout  all  it  'mounted  to.'7 

But  Dolf  was  too  wise  to  be  influenced  by  Victoria's 
sneers,  and  had  lately  convinced  himself  that  the  sum  was 
larger  than  he  at  first  supposed.  In  that  case  Dolf  felt 
the  extreme  folly  of  allowing  a  fancy  for  Victoria  to  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  interest.  Already  he  had  incurred  Clo- 
rinda's  serious  displeasure;  it  had  required  a  vast  amount  of 
eloquence  to  reconcile  matters  after  his  indiscretion  with 
the  strange  young  woman  at  old  Mother  Hopkin's,  besides, 
his  flirtations  with  Victoria  were  a  constant  bone  of  con 
tention  between  them. 

Dolf  felt  certain  that  if  he  only  came  directly  to  the  point 
and  made  Clorinda  a  boua  fide  offer  of  his  hand  with  his 
heart  in  it,  she  would  forgive  him  ;  but  it  required  a  good 
deal  of  resolution  to  make  up  his  mind  to  that  step. 

Clorinda  was  not  prepossessing  in  her  appearance, — that 
her  most  partial  friends  would  have  been  forced  to  admit ; 
probably  in  her  youth  she  might  have  had  her  attrac 
tions,  but  now  that  years,  avarice,  and  a  not  very  patient 
temper  had  worn  their  furrows  in  her  face,  it  really  required 
all  the  glitter  of  her  reported  wealth  to  make  her  endura 
ble  in  Dolf 's  mercenary  eyes. 

Then  her  color  and  her  frizzed  locks,  at  which  Victoria 
sneered  so  openly — that  was  a  tender  point  with  Dolf;  he 
had  the  general  contempt  for  the  jetty  hue  which  one  is  cer 
tain  to  find  among  those  of  the  bronze  complexion. 

Dolf  stood  there  looking  at  Clorinda  and  revolving  all 
those  things  in  his  mind,  while  she  washed  her  vegetables 
and  made  herselfjbusy  as  possible  at  the  kitchen  dressers. 

"  Dis  life  is  full  of  mysteriousness,  Miss  Clorindy,"  he 
said  in  a  meditative  tone. 

Clorinda  snipped  off  the  tops  from  the  carrots  she  was 
preparing  for  her  soup,  and  assented. 


THE      SABLE      FORTUNE     HUNTER.  339 

"  Dar  ain't  much  wuth  livin'  for,"  she  said  gloomily. 

Dolf  was  frightened  at  once;  when  Clo  got  into  one  of 
her  desponding  humors  she  became  very  religious  without 
delay  ;  and  he  trembled  with  fear  that  she  would  condemn 
him  to  Methodist  hymns  and  a  prayer-meeting  that  very 
night. 

"  Don't  say  dat,  Miss  Clorindy,  now  don't !  "  he  exclaimed 
pathetically.  "  You's  de  light  ob  too  many  eyes  for  sich 
reuumerations — you  lights  der  hearts  as  de  sun  does  de  sky 
at  noonday." 

Clorinda  relented ;  with  all  her  firmness  and  numerous 
other  grim  virtues,  she  was  a  thorough  woman  at  heart, 
and  never  could  withstand  flattery  adroitly  administered. 

"  Go  'long  wid  yer  poety  nonsense/'  said  she,  giving  a 
coquettish  toss  to  her  head  that  made  her  gorgeous  ban 
danna  flutter  as  if  suddenly  electrified.  "  Go  'way  wid 
sich,  I  say." 

"  Don't  call  it  nonsense,  sweet  Miss  Clorindy,"  urged 
Dolf;  "when  a  gemman  disposes  de  tenderest  feelins'  ob 
his  bussom  at  yer  feet,  don't  jist  at  'em." 

To  be  called  by  such  endearing  epithets  in  two  consec 
utive  sentences,  softened  Clorinda  greatly;  this  time  some 
thing  uncommon  must  be  coming — Dolf  certainly  was  in 
earnest. 

"  I  don't  see  nothin'  at  my  feet,"  said  she,  with  a  little 
giggle. 

"Yes,  yer  does,  Miss  Clorindy,"  pleaded  Dolf;  "yes,  yer 
does — now  don't  deny  it." 

"  La ! "  said  Clorinda,  in  a  delightful  flurry,  "  you  men 
is  so  confusin'." 

"I  don't  mean  ter  be  confusin',  Miss  Clorindy,"  said 
Dolf ;  "  it's  far  from  my  wishes — leastways  wid  you." 

There  was  a  tender  emphasis  on  the  concluding  pronoun 
which  quite  upset  Clorinda.  She  allowed  the  carrots  to 
fall  back  in  the  pan  of  water,  and  seated  herself  on  a  stool 

I 


340        THE      SABLE      FORTUNE      HUNTER. 

near  by — if  anything  serious  was  coming  she  would  receive 
it  with  dignity  befitting  the  occasion. 

Artful  Dolf,  profound  in  his  knowledge  of  the  sex,  read 
her  thoughts  without  the  slightest  difficulty,  and  chuckled 
inwardly  at  the  idea  that  any  female  heart  could  resist  his 
fascinations.  Still  he  was  in  a  condition  of  great  per 
plexity;  he  had  no  intention  of  committing  himself  until 
lie  had  learned  the  exact  price  Clorinda  could  pay  for  the 
sacrifice  he  was  prepared  to  make  of  his  youth  and  good 
looks.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  sorely  puzzled  how  to 
obtain  the  desired  information  without  laying  his  heart  at 
her  feet.  All  his  craft  in  that  direction  had  signally  failed  ; 
in  that  respect  Clorinda  was  astute  enough  to  be  fully  his 
match. 

But  he  must  say  something;  Dolf  could  not  afford  to 
lose  time  in  misunderstandings,  particularly  as  he  had 
lately  discovered  that  the  sable  parson  whose  meetings  she 
attended,  was  becoming  seriously  devoted  in  his  attentions. 
"  Ah  !  Miss  Clorindy,"  he  said,  "  de  sect  is  all  resem- 
blous  in  one  particlar." 

11  What  do  yer  mean  ? "  inquired  Clo,  and  her  voice 
softened  in  response  to  the  tenderness  in  his. 

"  In  yer  cruelty,"  said  Dolf,  "  yer  cruelty.  Miss  Clo- 
rindy." 

"  Laws,  nobody  ebber  sed  I  was  cruel,"  returned  the 
matter-of-fact  Clo.  "  I  wrings  de  necks  ob  de  chickens  and 
skin  de  eels  alive,  'cause  it's  a  cook's  lookout,  but  I  hasn't 
got  a  speck  ob  cruelty  in  me." 

Dolf  shook  his  head,  then  dropped  it  on  one  side  with 
an  air  which  he  had  found  very  effective  in  former  flirta 
tions. 

"  In  course  yer'll  deny  it — it's  de  way  ob  de  sect,  but  de 
fact  is  dar." 

"  I  don't  know  what  yer  mean,"  said  Clorinda,  begin 
ning  to  resume  a  little  of  her  usual  rigidity ;  "  if  yer  ain't 
a  talkin'  Spanish  now,  it's  jist  as  bad." 


THE      SABLE      FORTUNE      HUNTER.         341 

"I  alludes  to  de  coquettations  in  which  yer  all  indulge." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Clo ;  "  I  leaves  all  sich  foolishnesses  to 
silly  things  like  dat  Vic— I  hasn't  no  patience  wid  'em." 

"  Oh  !  Miss  Clorindy,  Miss  Clorindy  !  " 

"  Dat's  my  name,  fast  'nuff;  yer  needn't  go  shouting  it 
out  dat  ways." 

"  When  I'se  seed  wid  my  own  eyes,"  said  Dolf. 

"  What  has  yer  seen  ?  Jis'  'ticlarise — I  hate  beatin' 
round  de  bush." 

Clo  really  believed  that  Dolf  was  getting  jealous  ;  the 
bare  idea  filled  her  with  a  delicious  thrill — triumphs  of  that 
sort  were  sufficiently  rare  in  her  experience  to  be  exceed 
ingly  precious. 

"  But  I  don't  know  what  yer  mean,"  she  went  on,  "no 
more'n  de  man  in  de  moon." 

"  Dar  it  is  !  "  said  Dolf.  "  Why,  1  b'lieves  dat  ar'a  de 
only  reason  de  sect  looks  at  de  moon,  cause  dar's  a  man  in 
it." 

"  Oh,  he's  too  far  off,"  returned  Clo,  with  a  prolonged 
chuckle  at  her  own  wit ;  "  too  high  up  for  much  use." 

"  Eery  good,"  said  Dolf,  "  bery  good  indeed !  Yer's  in 
fine  spirits  to-day,  Miss  Clorindy." 

Here  Dolf  sighed  dolefully. 

He  certainly  was  in  earnest  this  time — Clo  felt  assured 
of  that.  She  forgot  the  half-washed  vegetables,  the  un 
seasoned  soup,  and  tried  to  pose  herself  with  becoming 
dignity. 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  she  said,  in  sweet  confusion.  "  But 
any  how  yer  didn't  prove  nothin'  'bout  my  bein'  coquet- 
tious." 

"  Dar  it  is  !  "  cried  Dolf.     "  It  all  goes  togeder." 

"  Oh,  laws,"  cried  Clo,  "  as  ef  dat  ar  would  set  you  a 
sighin' ;  I  knows  a  heap  better'n  dat,  Mister  Dolf." 

"  Yer  don't  do  me  justice,  Clorind}',"  said  Dolf,  seriously, 
putting  on  an  injured  look;  "yer  neber  has  done  me  jus 
tice." 


342  IN     THE      NET. 

"  Why,  what  have  I  done  now  ?  "  demanded  Clo,  begin 
ning  to  play  with  her  apron  string. 

"  Clo  !  I  say,  ole  Clo  !  » 

Victoria,  who  was  getting  impatient  with  her  confined 
position  behind  the  laundry  door,  where  she  had  done 
jealous  duty  as  a  listener,  now  dashed  in  upon  the  lovers, 
and  broke  up  the  conversation  just  as  it  reached  a  most 
interesting  point. 

"  I  say,  ole  Clo,  them  perserves  are  a  bilen  over ;  you  can 
smell  'em  here." 


CHAPTER  LY. 

IN    THE   NET. 

THE  day  was  wearing  slowly  on  ;  a  day  more  terrible  in 
its  moral  darkness  and  suspense  than  perhaps  had  ever 
before  descended  upon  that  old  house. 

Mr.  Mellen  was  engaged  with  a  succession  of  visitors  on 
business,  with  whom  he  remained  shut  up  in  the  library  ; 
Elsie  took  refuge  at  first  in  her  own  chamber,  but  either 
nervousness  or  a  desire  to  talk  drove  her  again  to  Elizabeth's 
room.  Their  dressing-rooms  were  separated  by  Elizabeth's 
chamber,  so  Elsie  flung  the  door  open  and  ran  into  her 
sister's  room,  exclaiming : 

"  You  must  let  me  stay  ;  I  can't  be  alone." 

Elizabeth  only  replied  by  a  gesture  ;  she  was  walking 
slowly  up  and  down  the  floor  as  she  had  been  during  all 
the  morning ;  it  was  entirely  out  of  her  power  to  accept 
one  instant  of  physical  rest.  She  left  the  door  open  and 
extended  her  promenade  through  the  second  chamber  into 
Elsie's,  and  then  back,  pacing  to  and  fro  till  she  looked 
absolutely  exhausted,  but  never  once  pausing  for  repose. 


IN      THE      NET.  343 

They  were  undisturbed,  except  when  one  of  the  servants 
knocked  at  the  door  for  orders,  and  at  each  request  for 
admittance  Elsie  would  give  a  nervous  little  cry. 

"  Tell  them  not  to  come  any  more,"  said  she,  lifting  both 
hands  in  nervous  appeal. 

"  They  must  have  their  orders,"  Elizabeth  replied  ; 
"  come  what  may,  everything  must  go  on  as  usual  to  the 
last  moment." 

Elsie  shivered  down  among  her  cushions  and  was  silent. 
She  had  pulled  the  sofa  close  to  the  hearth,  gathered  a  pile 
of  French  novels  about  her,  and  sat  th^re  trying  her  best  to 
be  comfortable  in  her  feeble  way. 

"  If  you  would  only  only  sit  down,"  she  exclaimed,  at 
length. 

"  I  cannot,"  replied  Elizabeth  ;  and  resumed  her  dreary 
walk. 

Then  there  came  more  interruptions ;  Victoria  wished  to 
know  if  they  would  have  luncheon. 

"  Marster's  got  in  de  library  wid  dem  men — 'spect  missus 
don't  want  to  go  down." 

"  What  is  she  talking  about  ? "  questioned  Elsie  from 
her  sofa. 

"  Luncheon,"  said  Elizabeth  ;  "  will  you  have  it  up 
here  ?  " 

"  As  if  one  could  eat — " 

A  warning  gesture  from  Elizabeth  checked  her. 

"You  may  bring  the  luncheon  up  here,"  Elizabeth  said 
to  the  girl. 

Victoria  went  out  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  believe  they  would  come  if  we  were  dying,  to  know 
if  we  would  take  time  to  eat,"  cried  Elsie. 

"Everything  must  go  on  as  usual,"  was  Elizabeth's 
answer. 

"  How  can  you  stand  there  and  talk  so  calmly  to  them  ! " 
cried  Elsie.  "  It's  enough  to  drive  one  frantic." 


344  IN      THE      NET. 

"  It  is  too  late  now  to  be  anything  but  quiet — entirely  too 
late." 

Elsie  began  some  shuddering  complaints,  but  Elizabeth 
did  not  wait  to  hear  them ;  she  had  resumed  her  prome 
nade,  walking  with  the  same  restless,  eager  haste,  her  eyes 
seeming  to  look  afar  off  and  unable  to  fix  themselves  upon 
any  object  in  the  rooms. 

"  There  is  another  knock,"  cried  Elsie.  "  Oh,  they'll 
drive  me  frantic  ! " 

"  Come  in,"  Elizabeth  said,  sharply. 

It  was  Victoria  with  the  luncheon  tray,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  she  never  would  have  done  arranging  it  to  her  satisfac 
tion. 

"  I  brung  yer  some  apricot  jelly,  Miss  Elsie,"  she  said  j 
11 1  knowed  you  had  one  of  yer  headaches." 

But  Elsie  only  moaned  and  turned  upon  her  cushions. 

"  Par's  only  cold  chicken  and  dat  patter,"  said  Vic  ;  "  I 
took  de  ducks  in  fur  marster." 

"There  is  quite  enough,"  said  Elizabeth;  "you  needn't 
wait." 

"  Yes,  miss,"  returned  Vic.  "  I  hain't  had  no  time  yet 
to  sweep  de  room  Miss  Harrington  had — Clo,  she's  ugly  as 
Cain,  ter  day." 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  said  Elizabeth,  while  Elsie 
threw  down  her  book  in  feverish  impatience. 

"  Yes,  miss,  but  tain't  pleasant,"  returned  Vic,  with  her 
most  elegant  curtsey.  "  I  likes  to  do  my  work  reg'lar  and 
in  time,  missus  knows  dat  ;  but  when  Clo  gets  into  one  o' 
her  tantrums  she  sets  ebryting  topsy-turvey,  'specially  when 
dat  yaller  nig',  Dolf,  come  down  feeriug  wid  de  work." 

"  Then  keep  out  of  the  kitchen,"  cried  Elsie  ;  "  don't 
quarrel." 

"  Laws,  Miss  Elsie,"  said  Victoria,  with  all  the  injured 
resignation  of  suffering  innocence;  "I  neber  quarr'ls  wid 
nobody,  but  I  defy  an  angel  to  git  along  wid  Clo  !  She's 


IN      THE      NET.  845 

jest  de  most  aggravatin'  piece  dat  eber  wore  shoe  leather  ! 
She's  so  mad  'cause  she's  gettin'  ole  dat  she  hates  a  young 
girl  wuss  nor  pison,  she  does." 

Vic  was  now  fairly  started  on  the  subject  of  her  wrongs, 
and  hurried  on  before  Elsie  could  stop  her,  with  all  the 
energy  of  a  belated  steam  engine.  Elizabeth  had  walked 
into  the  other  room,  and  Victoria  took  that  opportunity  to 
pour  out  her  sorrows  with  the  utmost  freedom  to  Elsie. 

"  Miss  Elsie,  sometimes  I  tinks  I  can't  stand  it.  I 
wouldn't  nohow,  if  twarn't  fur  my  affection  fur  you — you 
and  miss,"  Victoria  hastened  to  add  diplomatically,  fearful 
that  her  mistress  might  be  within  hearing  and  that  the 
omission  would  be  turned  to  her  disadvantage.  "  Clo,  she 
gits  agravatiner  ebery  day,  and  sence  Dolf  come  back  she's 
wurs'n  a  bear  wid  a  sore  head." 

"  Oh,  you  make  mine  ache,"  cried  Elsie, 

"  Laws,  miss,  I  wouldn't  for  the  worlV 

"  Then  go  along,  and  let  me  sleep,  if  I  can." 

"  Sartin,  miss ;  but  let  me  do  somethin*  for  yer  head," 
said  Victoria,  out  of  the  goodness  of  her  heart, 

"  No,  no  ;  I  only  want  to  be  let  alone." 

"  If  yer'd  only  let  me  bathe  it  wid  cologny,"  persisted  Vic* 

"  I  don't  want  it  bathed,"  fretted  Elsie. 

"  Laws,  miss,  it  does  a  heap  o'  good !  Pennyryal  tea's 
good—" 

"  Oh,  do  go  away  !  "  groaned  Elsie. 

"  In  course  I  will,  miss ;  but  I'd  like  to  do  something  fur 
ye — yer  looks  right  sick." 

"  Then  just  go  away,  and  don't  come  up  again  for  the 
next  two  hours." 

"  Yes,  miss,  Pll  jest—" 

"  Go  out ! "  shrieked  Elsie. 

"  Pse  only  fixin'  yer  cushins,"  said  Vic.  "Dear  me,  Miss 
Elsie,  yer  allers  says  I'm  right  smart  handy  when  yer  has 
dem  headaches." 


346  IN      THE      NET. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  bear  anybody  to-day." 

"  Dear  me,  ain't  it  a  pity  !  Now,  miss,  I  knows  what  'ud 
be  good  for  yer — " 

"  Elizabeth/7  groaned  Elsie,  "  do  come  and  send  this 
dreadful  creature  away  !  " 

This  time  Victoria  deemed  it  prudent  to  make  a  hasty 
retreat,  for  she  stood  in  a  good  deal  of  awe  of  her  mistress. 
She  went  out,  reiterating  her  desire  to  be  useful,  and  really 
very  full  of  sympathy,  for  she  was  a  kindhearted  creature 
enough,  except  where  her  enemy,  Clorinda,  was  in  the  ques 
tion. 

"  They'll  kill  me,  I  know  they  will !  "  moaned  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  did  not  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  her  com 
plaints,  and  she  relapsed  into  silence.  Finally,  her  eye  was 
caught  by  the  luncheon  temptingly  laid  out.  There  lay  a 
mould  of  delicious  apricot  jelly  in  a  dish  of  cut  crystal, 
shining  like  a  great  oval-shaped  wedge  of  amber ;  the  cold 
chicken  was  arranged  in  the  daintiest  of  slices,  and  there 
was  custard-cake,  Elsie's  special  favorite. 

She  made  an  effort  to  fancy  herself  disgusted  at  the  bare 
sight  of  food,  and  turned  away  her  head,  but  it  was  only  to 
encounter  the  fragrant  odor  from  the  little  silver  teapot, 
which  Victoria  had  set  upon  the  hearth. 

"  Could  you  eat  anything,  Elizabeth  ? "  she  said,  de 
jectedly. 

"  ISTo,  no  ;  I  am  not  hungry." 

"But  you  never  touched  a  morsel  of  breakfast,  and  you 
ate  nothing  all  yesterday." 

"  I  can't  eat  now — indeed  I  can't,"  was  Elizabeth's  reply. 

"  Oh,  nor  I ! "  moaned  Elsie.  "  I  feel  as  if  a  single 
mouthful  would  choke  me." 

She  glanced  again  at  the  tray,  and  began  to  moan  and 
weep. 

"  Oh,  dear  me !  This  day  never  will  be  over !  Oh,  I 
wish  I  were  dead,  I  do  truly  !  Do  say  something,  Bessie  ; 
don't  act  so." 


IN     THE      NET.  347 

But  Elizabeth  only  continued  her  incessant  march  up  and 
down  the  floor,  and  Elsie  was  forced  to  quiet  herself. 

She  rose  from  the  sofa  at  last,  stood  by  the  window  a  few 
moments,  but  some  magnetism  drew  her  near  the  luncheon- 
tray  again.  She  took  up  a  spoon  and  tasted  the  apricot 

jelly- 

"  I  want  things  to  look  as  if  we  had  eaten  something," 
she  said,  giving  Elizabeth  a  wistful  glance  from  under  her 
wet  eye-lashes. 

"  You  had  better  try  and  eat,"  said  her  sister. 

lt  One  ought,  I  suppose,"  observed  Elsie.  "  I  think  I  will 
drink  a  cup  of  tea — won't  you  have  some  ?  " 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head,  and  with  renewed  sighs  Elsie 
poured  herself  out  a  cup  of  tea  and  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"  Oh,  this  wretched  day  !  I'd  rather  be  dead  and  buried  ! 
Oh,  oh ! " 

In  an  absurd,  stealthy  way,  she  thrust  her  spoon  into  the 
apricot  jelly  again,  and  stifled  her  moans  for  a  second  with 
the  translucent  compound. 

"  I  wish  I  could  eat ;  but  I  can't ! " 

She  put  a  fragment  of  chicken  on  her  plate,  made  a 
strong  effort  and  actually  succeeded  in  eating  it,  while 
Elizabeth  was  walking  through  the  other  rooms. 

"  I've  tried,"  she  said,  when  her  sister  appeared  in  the 
doorway  again,  "  but  I  can't,  it  chokes  me." 

"  She  drank  her  tea  greedily. 

"  I  am  so  thirsty ;  I  believe  I've  got  a  fever." 

But  Elizabeth  was  gone  again,  and  Elsie  stood  staring  at 
the  pate — a  magnificent  affair,  she  knew  it  was — one  of 
Maillard's  best,  full  of  truffles  and  all  sorts  of  delicious 
things.  She  felt  something  in  her  throat,  which  might 
have  been  hunger  or  it  might  have  been  weakness ;  she 
chose  to  think  it  the  latter. 

"I  feel  so  weak,"  she  said,  when  Elizabeth  returned  on 
her  round;  "  such  a  sinking  here,"  and  she  put  her  hand  in 
the  region  where  her  heart  might  be  supposed  to  beat. 


348  IN      THE      NET. 

"  You  had  better  lie  down,"  her  sister  said,  absently. 

That  was  not  the  advice  Elsie  wanted  or  expected,  and 
she  cried  out,  spasmodically  : 

"  How  can  I  keep  still !  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  some  drops,  or 
something  to  take  !  " 

She  moaned  so  loudly  that  it  disturbed  Elizabeth,  who 
became  impatient. 

"  Drink  your  tea,"  she  said,  "  and  eat  something ;  you 
cannot  go  without  food." 

"Well,  I'll  try,"  said  Elsie,  resignedly.  "I  wish  you'd 
sit  down  and  have  a  cup  ;  perhaps  I  could  eat  then." 

"Not  now,"  replied  Elizabeth. 

The  very  sight  of  food  was  loathsome  to  her.  She  had 
hardly  touched  a  morsel  for  two  days. 

After  a  good  deal  more  hesitation,  Elsie  attacked  the 
pate,  and  the  jelly,  and  the  pickles,  and  the  custard-cake, 
and  some  crisp  little  wafers,  and,  finally,  made  an  excellent 
meal ;  all  the  while  declaring  that  she  could  not  eat,  that 
every  mouthful  choked  her,  that  she  believed  she  was  dying. 
To  all  these  complaints  Elizabeth  paid  no  more  attention 
than  she  did  to  the  meal  that  sensitive  young  creature  was 
making. 

Elsie  went  back  to  her  sofa,  feeling  somewhat  comforted, 
and  prepared  to  take  a  brighter  view  of  things.  It  ap 
peared  possible  now  for  her  to  live  an  hour  or  two  longer — 
a  little  while  before  she  had  declared  that  her  death  might 
be  expected  any  moment. 

"  Do  come  and  sit  down,  Bessie,"  she  said,  as  Elizabeth 
entered,  for  about  the  hundredth  time.  "  I'll  give  you  the 
sofa ;  you  must  be  tired  out." 

"  No  ;  I  am  not  tired." 

"  But  I  am  sure  you  have  been  for  three  hours  march- 
march — march  !  Do  sit  down." 

Elizabeth  only  turned  away  in  silence,  but  Elsie  felt  so 
much  relieved  after  her  creature  comforts,  that  she  could 


IN     THE      NET.  349 

not  forbear  attempting  to  inspire  her  sister  with  a  little 
of  the  hope  which  had  begun  to  spring  up  in  her  own 
narrow  heart. 

"  Oh,  Bessie,"  she  cried,  "  I  feel  as  if  this  would  get 
over  somehow,  I  do  indeed.'* 

"  But  how  ?  may  I  ask  how  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell ;  but  there'll  be  some  way,  there  always 
is ;  nothing  ever  does  happen,  you  know." 

Elizabeth  did  not  reply.  She  was  thinking  of  the  books 
she  had  read,  in  which  women's  ruin  and  disgrace  were 
depicted  with  such  thrilling  force,  of  the  accounts  in  almost 
every  daily  journal  of  families  broken  up,  their  holiest 
secrets  made  a  public  jest;  of  terrible  discoveries  shaking 
a  whole  community  with  the  commotion,  and  dragging  all 
concerned  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  in  scorn  and 
humiliation.  Yet  Elsie  could  say  : 

"Nothing  ever  does  happen  !" 

She  was  thinking  that  perhaps  in  a  few  hours  her  beau 
tiful  home  might  be  agitated  by  a  discovery,  mysterious 
and  full  of  shame  as  any  of  the  occurrences  in  the  novels 
she  was  recalling ;  only  a  few  hours  and  she  might  be 
driven  forth  to  a  fate  terrible  as  that  of  the  unhappy 
women  whose  names  she  had  shuddered  even  to  hear 
mentioned. 

Not  for  one  instant  did  she  delude  herself.  She  knew 
that  the  crisis  was  at  hand,  the  fearful  crisis  which  she  had 
seen  approaching  for  weeks.  This  time  there  would  be  no 
loophole  of  escape — this  last  respite  was  all  that  would  be 
granted  her;  and  even  now  that  she  had  gained  that  much, 
there  seemed  every  hour  less  probability  of  her  being  able 
to  turn  it  to  advantage. 

Then  the  task  before  her,  the  thing  she  had  to  do,  a  work 
at  which  the  stoutest  man's  heart  might  have  quailed, 
alone  in  the  dead  of  night,  with  the  fear  of  discovery  con 
stantly  upon  her,  and  the  horror  of  an  awful  task  frenzying 
her  mind  ! 


350  IN     THE      NET. 

She  clenched  her  hands  frantically  as  the  scene  presented 
itself,  in  all  its  danger,  to  her  excited  fancy.  She  saw  the 
night  still  and  dark,  herself  stealing  like  a  criminal  from 
the  house ;  she  saw  the  old  crypress  rising  up  weird  and 
solemn,  she  heard  the  low  shiver  of  its  branches  as  they 
swayed  to  and  fro ;  she  saw  the  earth  laid  bare,  saw 

The  picture  became  too  terrible,  she  could  endure  no 
longer,  and  with  a  shuddering  moan  sank  upon  her  knees 
in  the  centre  of  the  room : 

"  God  help  me  !     God  help  me  !  " 

Elsie  sprang  off  the  couch  and  ran  towards  her  with  a 
succession  of  strangled  shrieks. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  ails  you  ?  You  frighten 
me  so.  Are  you  sick — did  you  see  something  ?  Is  he 
going  that  way  ?" 

But  the  woman  neither  saw  sor  heard ;  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  vacancy,  an  appalling  look  lay  on  her  haggard 
face,  which  might  well  have  startled  stronger  nerves  than 
those  of  the  girl  by  her  side. 

"  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  ! "  shrieked  Elsie,  in  genuine 
terror  which  there  was  no  mistaking. 

"  I  must  do  it,"  muttered  the  woman  ;  "  I  must  do  it !  " 

"  Oh,  Bessie,  dear  Bessie !  Get  up  !  Don't  look  so ! 
Oh,  for  heaven's  sake  !  Bessie,  Bessie  ! " 

Elsie  threw  herself  upon  the  floor  beside  her  sister,  cry 
ing  and  shrieking,  clinging  to  her,  and  hiding  her  face  in 
her  dress.  Her  agitation  and  wild  terror  recalled  Elizabeth 
to  her  senses.  She  disengaged  herself  from  Elsie's  arms 
and  staggered  to  her  feet. 

"  It's  over  now,"  she  said,  feebly,  with  the  weariness  of 
a  person  exhausted  by  some  violent  exertion  ;  "  1  am  better 
— better  now." 

"  Oh,  you  frightened  me  so." 

"  I  will  not  frighten  you  again.  Don't  cry  ;  I  am  strong 
now." 


IN      THE     NET.  351 

"  What  was  the  matter  ?     Did  you  see  anything  ?  " 

"No,  no.  I  was  only  thinking;  it  all  came  up  so  real 
before  me — so  horrible." 

"  But  it  may  be  made  safe  yet,"  urged  Elsie.  "  If  you 
can  escape  this  time — only  this  once." 

She  did  not  connect  herself  with  the  trouble  which  might 
befall  her  sister.  Even  in  that  moment  of  anguish,  her 
craft  and  her  selfishness  made  her  remember  to  kjsep  pres 
ent  in  Elizabeth's  mind  the  promise  she  had  made. 

"  Only  this  once/'  she  repeated. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  returned  Elizabeth.  "  I  knew  the  day 
would  come — it  is  here  ! " 

"  But  he  can't  discover  anything,  Bessie,  when  every- 
'  body  is  abed." 

"  Have  you  thought  what  I  must  do  ?  "  she  broke  in. 
"  The  horror  of  appealing  to  that  man  is  almost  worse  to 
bear  than  exposure  and  ruin." 

Elsie  wrung  her  hands. 

"  Don't  give  way  now.  You  have  borne  up  so  long ; 
don't  give  way  when  a  little  courage  may  save  everything." 

"  I  shall  not  give  way  ;  I  shall  go  through  with  it.  But, 
Elsie,  it  will  all  be  useless;  the  end  has  come,  deception 
cannot  prosper  forever." 

"  No,  it  hasn't !  I'm  sure  it  hasn't !  Think  how  many 
secrets  are  kept  for  ever.  It  needs  so  little  now  to  make 
all  secure  ;  only  don't  give  way,  Bessie — don't  give  way." 

"  Be  quiet,  child  ;  I  shall  not  fail !  " 

Elizabeth  walked  away  and  left  the  girl  crouching  upon 
the  floor,  went  to  the  glass  and  looked  at  herself.  The 
rouge  Elsie  had  rubbed  on  her  cheeks  burned  there  yet, 
making  the  deathty  pallor  of  her  face  still  more  ghastly  ; 
her  eyes  gleamed  out  of  the  black  shadows  that  circled 
them  so  full  of  agony  and  fear  that  she  turned  away  with 
a  shudder.  Her  hair  had  fallen  loose,  and  streamed  wildly 
about  her  shoulders.  She  bound  it  up  again,  arranged  her 
dress  and  recommenced  her  restless  walk. 


352  THE      SECRET     TELEGRAM. 

"Get  up,  Elsie/'  she  said;  "some  one  may  come  in." 
Elsie  took  refuge  on  her  sofa,  and  sobbed  herself  into  a 
sound  slumber,  while  Elizabeth,  in  her  haggard  anxiety, 
moved  up  and  down,  wounded  by  cruel  reflections  which 
wrung  her  soul  and  left  it  dumb,  with  a  passive  submission, 
born  rather  of  desperation  than  endurance. 


CHAPTER    LVL 

THE    SECRET    TELEGRAM. 

ELIZABETH  at  last  paused,  and  in  her  bitter  anguish 
stood  for  minutes  regarding  Elsie  as  she  lay  asleep  upon  the 
sofa.  She  approached  and  bent  over  her.  The  girl  had 
brushed  her  long  fair  curls  back  from  her  face,  and  they  fell 
over  the  cushions  in  rich  luxuriance,  a  feverish  color  was  on 
her  cheeks,  lighting  up  her  loveliness,  and  her  whole 
appearance  was  so  pretty,  so  singularly  childlike,  as  she  lay 
there,  that  it  seemed  impossible,  even  then,  that  she  could 
have  anything  in  common  with  the  trouble  that  oppressed 
Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth  stood  for  a  long  time  regarding  her,  and  many 
changes  passed  over  her  face  as  she  did  so,  but  they  all  set 
tled  into  a  look  of  determination,  and  she  turned  away. 
Whatever  was  to  be  borne  she  would  endure  alone  ;  she 
would  keep  her  promise  to  the  very  letter.  If  ruin  and 
disgrace  came  they  should  fall  on  her  alone.  Why  attempt 
to  involve  that  fair  young  creature  in  it? 

She  went  to  a  cabinet  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  opened 
a  little  drawer  and  took  out  a  package  of  letters.  They 
were  those  her  husband  had  written  to  her  during  his  long 
absence. 

She  drew  an  easy-chair  near  to  the  sofa  and  sat  down, 


THE      SECRET      TELEGRAM.  353 

with  her  face  turned  towards  Elsie,  opened  one  or  two  of 
the  epistles  and  read  passages  from  them.  One  of  the 
pages  ran  thus : 

"  Whatever  may  happen,  no  mattter  how  long  my 
absence  may  be  protracted,  I  know  that  you  will  take  care 
of  Elsie.  If  the  worst  should  happen — if  death  should 
surprise  me  in  this  far-off  land,  I  know  that  you  will  fulfil 
for  me  the  promise  I  made  my  dying  mother,  and  be  a 
parent  to  that  desolate  girl. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  pain  you  by  writing  so  sadly.  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  misfortune  will  happen  to  me ;  some 
thing  tells  me  that  I  shall  reach  home  in  safety,  and  find 
love  and  happiness  once  more  awaiting  me  there. 

"But  the  charge  I  have  in  Elsie's  future  is  always  pres 
ent  to  my  mind.  I  never  can  forget  the  words  that  my 
dying  mother  spoke ;  they  are  with  me  night  and  day,  and 
have  been  since  the  hour  when  they  died  on  her  pallid  lips. 

"  It  rejoices  my  heart  to  think  how  different  from  most 
girls  our  little  Elsie  is.  If  any  harm  were  to  reach  her  I 
think  I  should  go  mad  ;  disgrace  to  one  whose  blood  was 
kindred  to  that  in  my  veins  would  kill  me.  You  may  think 
this  pride  a  weakness,  but  it  is  too  deeply  rooted  in  my 
nature  ever  to  be  eradicated.  When  I  look  about  the 
world  and  see  girls  disgracing  themselves  by  improper  mar 
riages,  elopements,  often  social  crimes,  which  must  blight 
their  lives  and  those  of  all  connected  with  them,  I  think 
what  I  should  do  under  such  circumstances. 

"  Elizabeth,  I  could  not  endure  it.  You  are  my  wife  ;  I 
love  you  more  deeply  than  you  know  of;  but  I  tell  you  that 
I  could  better  bear  sorrow  which  came  to  me  through  my 
wife,  than  the  weakness  or  dishonor  of  one  who  claimed  my 
name  by  right  of  birth.  It  is  an  inherited  pride,  which 
has,  I  know,  come  down  from  father  to  son,  and  will  go  with 
me  through  life. 

"But  Elsie  is  safe — in  your  hands  quite   safe.     I    rest 
22 


354  THE      S  E  C  R  E  T     TELEGRAM. 

upon  that  thought.  I  remember  her  loveliness,  her  inno 
cence,  her  sweet  childish  ways,  and  I  am  at  peace  again, 
knowing  that  you  will  care  for  her." 

This  was  the  letter  Grantley  Mellen  had  written  during 
his  long  exile,  and  his  wife  sat  reading  it  in  the  presence  of 
that  sleeping  girl. 

After  a  time  Elizabeth  folded  up  the  letters,  kissed  them 
passionately,  and  laid  them  away. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  last  time,"  she  murmured.  "  The 
last  time  !  I  must  not  think  of  it.  Oh,  my  God,  how  will 
this  day  pass  ?  " 

She  began  walking  up  and  down  the  rooms  again,  tread 
ing  softly  that  she  might  not  disturb  Elsie's  slumber.  This 
time  her  movements  had  some  purpose.  She  went  into  her 
dressing-room,  took  her  riding  dress  from  a  wardrobe  and 
hastened  to  put  it  on.  She  grew  cold,  and  her  poor  hands 
shivered  as  she  drew  on  her  gauntlet  gloves,  and  tied  the 
veil  over  her  hat.  In  passing  through  the  next  room,  the 
unhappy  woman  lingered  a  moment  to  look  on  that  sleeping 
girl,  and  her  soul  filled  itself  with  the  cruel  desolation  of 
this  thought. 

"He  will  not  feel  it  so  very  much  when  it  is  only  me  on 
whom  disgrace  falls,"  she  thought,  with  mournful  satisfac 
tion.  "  For  her  at  least  I  shall  have  done  my  best.  I  have 
struggled  so  hard  to  keep  the  fair  creature  he  loves  from 
harm.  When  I  am  swept  from  his  path,  like  a  black  cloud 
that  had  no  silver  lining  for  him,  he  will  be  happy  with  her. 
I  ought  to  be  comforted  by  this.  Yet,  oh,  my  God  !  my 
God  !  this  thought  alone  makes  the  worst  of  my  misery. 
They  will  be  so  happy,  and  without  me  ! " 

In  passing  down  stairs  Elizabeth  met  Dolf,  moving  de 
jectedly  up  from  the  basement  story  where  Vic  had  so 
maliciously  disturbed  his  love  making,  lie  stood  aside  to 
make  room  for  his  mistress,  who  addressed  him  in  her  usual 
calm  fashion. 


THE      SECRET      TELEGRAM.  355 

"Go  to  the  stables/'  she  said,  "and  order  my  groom  to 
bring  Gipsj  round  ;  he  need  not  trouble  himself  to  attend 
me.  I  shall  ride  alone." 

Dolf  hurried  down  the  hall,  and  his  mistress  went  into 
her  little  sitting-room,  opened  her  desk  and  wrote  some 
words  on  a  slip  of  paper  which  she  folded  and  thrust  under 
the  gauntlet  of  her  glove.  Then  she  stood  by  the  window 
watching  till  her  horse  was  brought  round. 

He  came  at  last,  a  light  graceful  animal,  so  full  of  life, 
that  he  fairly  danced  upon  the  gravel,  and  flung  the  sunshine 
from  his  arched  neck  with  the  grace  of  a  wild  gazelle.  He 
whinnied  a  little,  and  put  out  his  head  for  a  tribute  of  sugar, 
which  Bessie  always  gave  him  before  she  mounted  the 
saddle.  But  she  had  nothing  of  the  kind  for  him  now  ; 
scarcely  touching  the  groom's  hand  with  her  foot,  she  sprang 
upon  his  back  and  rode  slowly  away,  turning  him  upon  the 
turf  which  was  like  velvet,  and  gave  back  no  sound.  Thus, 
with  an  appearance  of  indolent  leisure,  she  passed  out  of 
sight. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  this.  Elizabeth  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  riding  around  the  estate,  without  escort, 
during  the  two  years  in  which  her  husband  had  been  absent, 
so  the  groom  went  back  to  his  work  and  thought  no  more  of 
the  matter. 

Elizabeth  rode  forward,  without  any  appearance  of  ex 
citement,  until  a  grove  of  trees  concealed  her  from  the 
house  ;  then  she  put  her  horse  upon  the  road,  and  ran  him 
at  the  top  of  his  speed  to  the  edge  of  the  village. 

Once  among  houses  she  rode  on  leisurely  again,  and 
stopped  at  the  post  office  to  enquire  for  letters, — getting 
down  from  her  horse,  an  unusual  thing  with  her.  There 
was  a  telegraph  station  connected  with  the  post  office,  and 
while  the  man  was  searching  his  mail,  she  took  the  slip  of 
paper  from  her  glove,  and  laid  it  with  some  money  before 
the  operator. 


356  KITCHEN      GOSSIP. 

The  telegram  was  directed  to  that  hotel  near  the  Battery, 
which  has  already  been  described. 


CHAPTER     LVII. 

KITCHEN"    GOSSIP. 

THE  day  was  passing — that  long,  terrible  day — in  which 
the  moments  seemed  to  lengthen  themselves  into  hours, 
while  with  every  one  the  gloom  about  the  old  house  deep 
ened  and  pressed  more  heavily  down. 

Grantley  Mellen  was  in  his  library  still ,  it  had  been  a 
busy  day  with  him  ;  it  appeared  as  if  every  creature  within 
reach  who  could  invent  a  plea  of  business  had  chosen  that 
time  to  trouble  him  with  it. 

He  was  alone  at  last,  and  that  was  well ;  he  was  literally 
incapable  of  enduring  any  farther  self-restraint. 

He  rang  the  bell  and  gave  strict  orders  to  Dolf : 

"  Let  no  one  else  in  to-day  ;  I  have  letters  to  write ;  I 
will  not  see  another  human  being." 

Dolf  bowed  himself  out,  and  took  his  way  to  the  lower 
regions,  to  communicate  to  Clo  and  Victoria  the  commands 
his  master  had  given.  Those  three  servants  kept  them 
selves  aloof  from  the  few  others  employed  for  tasks  which 
they  considered  too  menial  for  the  dignity  of  their  position, 
and  these  gaping  youths  and  girls  were  strictly  forbidden 
to  enter  the  apartment  in  which  Clo  had  installed  herself. 

They  were  perfectly  well  aware,  those  three  sable  digni 
taries,  that  something  was  wrong  in  the  house  ;  servants 
always  do  know  when  anything  out  of  the  common  routine 
happens,  and  no  pretence  can  blind  their  watchful  eyes. 

"  Marster  says  he  won't  see  nobody  more,"  said  Dolf,  aa 
h^  entered  the  room  where  Clo  was  rolling  out  her  piecrust, 
and  Victoria  busily  occupied  in  watching  her. 


KITCHEN      GOSSIP.  3.">7 

"I  wonder  what's  come  over  'cm  all,"  said  Vic.  "Der's 
missus  was  a  walkin'  up  an'  down  like  a  crazy  woman — " 

"She  didn't  eat  no  breakfast."  interrupted  Dolf,  "an* 
she  never  teched  a  thing  yesterday  ;  now  she's  just  done 
gone  out  a  riden'  all  alone." 

"  An'  Miss  Elsie  stretched  out  on  de  sofa,  lookin'  as  if 
she'd  cried  her  pretty  eyes  out,"  went  on  Victoria.  "  Says 
she's  got  a  headache — go  'long  ;  tell  dat  to  blind  folks  t 
It's  my  'pinion  der's  more  heartache  under  dem  looks  dan 
anythin'  else." 

"  Dat's  jis'  what  I  tink,"  assented  Dolf. 

Clorinda,  from  her  station  at  the  pastryboard,  gave  a 
sniff  of  doubtful  meaning,  tossed  her  head  till  her  frizzed 
locks  shook,  brought  her  rolling-pin  down  on  the  board  with 
great  energy,  and  remained  silent  for  the  express  purpose 
of  being  questioned. 

"  What  does  yer  tink  'bout  it,  Miss  Clorindy  ? "  asked 
Dolf. 

Vic  looked  a  little  spiteful  at  hearing  this  appeal  to  Clo, 
but  she  was  so  anxious  for  anybody's  opinion,  that  for  once 
she  forgot  to  quarrel. 

"  I  tinks  what  I  tink,"  said  Clo,  with  another  toss  of  her 
head  and  an  extra  flourish  of  the  rolling-pin. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Dolf,  quite  discomfited. 

"  Jis'  so,"  said  Clorinda. 

"  Any  pusson  could  have  guessed  dat  ar,"  put  in  Victo 
ria,  in  an  irritated  way ;  "  yer  needn't  make  sich  a  myste- 
riousness." 

"  I  shall  make  a  mysteriousness  or  shall  luff  it  alone,  jis' 
as  I  tink  best,"  retorted  Clo,  "  so  yer  needn't  go  a  med- 
dlin'  wid  my  dumplin',  Miss  Vic,  'cause  yer'll  git  yer 
fingers  burnt  if  yer  does." 

"  Don't  wanter  meddle  wid  nothin'  that  recerns  you," 
cried  Vic,  jumping  at  the  prospect  of  a  quarrel,  since  there 
was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  amicable  words. 


858  KITCHEN      GOSSIP. 

"  Jis'  give  me  any  of  yer  sarse,"  said  Clo,  "  and  I'll 
mark  yer  face  smash  wid  dis  ere  dough,  now  I  tells  yo  ?  " 

"  Don't   lay  a  finger   on    me,  cause  I  won't   stand    it," 

shrieked   Vic ;    "  yer  a  cross    ole,  ole dat's    what's    de 

matter." 

"  Go  'long  'bout  yer  business,"  shouted  Clo,  shaking  her 
rolling-pin  in  a  threatening  rage.  a  Dis  ere's  de  house 
keeper's  room,  an'  yer  hain't  no  business  here." 

"  Much  business  as  you  has,  I  guess  ;  yer  ain't  house 
keeper  as  I  knows  on  ;  yer  only  potwasher  anyhow." 

"  Missus  felled  me  to  use  dis  room  for  makin'  pies  and 
cakes  in  till  she  got  anoder  housekeeper,  an'  I'se  gwine  ter." 

"  I  don't  keer  if  she  did,  dat  don't  make  yer  housekeeper 
any  more'n  stolen  feathers  makes  a  jackdaw  an  eagle." 

"Now,  ladies,  ladies!"  pleaded  Dolf,  fearful  of  the 
extent  to  which  the  tempest  might  reach  if  not  chocked 
in  time.  "  Don't  let  us  conflusticate  dese  little  seasons  of 
union  by  savagerousnesses ;  don't,  I  beg." 

"  Den  her  leave  me  alone,"  sniffled  Vic. 

"  Larn  dat  gal  ter  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  her  yaller  head 
if  yer  want  peace  an'  composion,"  said  Clo. 

"Dat  ar's  religion  wid  a  vengeance,"  cried  Vie ;  "a 
callin'  names  is  prett}''  piety,  ain't  it!  I'll  jis'  see  what 
Elder  Brown  says  ter  dat  ar  de  bery  next  time  I  sees  him." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Clo,  contemptuous;  "yer  allers  glad 
ob  a  'casion  ter  gabble  !  How's  a  pusson  gwine  tor  hnb 
religion  when  dey's  persecuted  by  sich  a  born  debil ;  wurs 
'en  dem  in  de  scripture  as  was  worrying  de  swine." 

"Laws  !  "  said  Vic,  with  a  vicious  sneer,  "  was  yer  roun 
wid  dat  drove  'bout  dat  time." 

"  I'll  drove  yer,"  cried  Clo. 

But  Dolf  interpos&d  again,  and  luckily  Clo's  nostrils 
detected  the  odor  of  burning  piecrust,  and  she  rushed  into 
the  kitchen  to  see  if  the  girl  had  allowed  her  pastry  to  burn. 

Dolf  took  that  opportunity  to  soothe  the  angry  Victoria, 
and  succeeded  admirably. 


KITCHEN      GOSSIP.  359 

"Now,  Miss  Clorindy,"  said  Dolf,  when  she  had  relieved 
her  feelings  by  abusing  Sally  for  her  carelessness  about  the 
pies,  and  was  once  more  tranquilly  occupied  with  her  work ; 
"  now,  Miss  Clorindy,  jis'  glorify  us  wid  yer  'pinion  'bout 
de  'fairs  ob  dis  dwellin'  which  we  has  all  noticed  is  more 
mysteriouser  dan  is  pleasant." 

"  I  ain't  gwine  ter  talk,  jis'  ter  be  snapped  up  like  a 
beetle  by  a  Shanghai,"  said  Clo  ;  "  shan't  do  it,  nohow." 

Dolf  winked  at  Victoria,  and  the  artful  maiden  conde 
scended  to  mollify  her  fellow  servant. 

"  Now  don't  be  cross,  Clo,"  said  she,  "  it's  bad  enough 
ter  hab  connections  above  stairs  widout  us  a  mussin'." 

"  Dem's  my  sentiments,"  cried  Dolf,  "  and  I  knows  fair 
Miss  Clorinda  'grees  wid  dem  —  she  coincidates,  if  yer'll 
'scuse  the  leetle  bit  ob  dictionery." 

Victoria  made  a  grimace  behind  Clo's  back,  but  said, 
graciously : 

"  I'se  gwine  ter  gib  yer  dat  ar  blue  handkercher  Miss 
Elsie  gub  me,  Clo,"  she  said,  "  so  now  let's  make  up  and 
be  corafoble." 

"  I  don't  want  ter  fight,"  replied  Clo,  "  'taint  my  way — 
only  I  knows  my  persition  and  I  'spects  ter  be  treated 
'cording." 

The  handkerchief  was  something  Clo  had  coveted  for  a 
long  time,  and  the  gift  quite  restored  her  good-humor. 

"  Dat's  as  it  orter  be,"  said  'Dolf.  "  Peace  and  harmony 
once  more  prewails,  and  we's  here  like — like — de  Happy 
Family  as  used  ter  be  at  Barnum's  Museum,"  he  addod, 
finding  a  comparison  at  length,  and  quite  unconscious  of  its 
singular  appropriateness. 

"  I'se  gwine  to  mend  dis  tablecloth,"  said  Vic,  "  and  I'll 
set  here  to  do  it — when  I  go  upstairs  I'll  git  yer  the  han- 
kercher,  Clo." 

"  Oh  !  laws,"  said  Clo,  "  yer  want  it  yerself — don't  be  a 
givin'  away  yer  truck." 


SCO  KITCHEN      GOSSIP. 

"  I\l  ruther  yer  had  it,'?  observed  Vic,  "  blue's  allers  be 
coming  to  yer,  ain't  it,  Mr.  Dolf?" 

She  made  another  grimace,  unseen  by  Clorinda,  which 
nearly  sent  Dolf  into  fits,  but  he  restrained  his  merriment, 
and  answered  with  the  gravity  of  a  judge  : 

"  Miss  Clorindy  overcomes  whatever  she  puts  on,  but 
since  yer  wishes  my  honest  'pinion,  I  must  say  I  tink  blue's 
about  de  proper  touch  fur  her." 

Clo  grew  radiant  with  delight,  but  she  worked  away 
resolutely,  only  observing : 

"  Victy,  dar's  a  leetle  cranberry  tart  I  jis'  tuk  out  ob  de 
oben — it's  on  de  kitchen  table — I  'spect  we  might  as  well 
eat  it,  cause  'taint  big  enough  to  go  on  de  table." 

"  I'll  fotch  it,"  cried  Dolf;  "  to  sarve  de  fair  is  my  priv'- 
lege." 

He  darted  into  the  kitchen,  bore  off  the  tart  from  before 
Sally's  envious  eyes,  and  closed  the  door  so  tluit  she  could 
not  be  regaled  even  with  a  scent  of  the  delicacy. 

"  I've  jis'  done  gone  now,"  said  Clo,  "  so  I'll  rest  a  leetle 
afore  I  'gins  dinner.  I'll  jis'  taste  de  tart  to  see  of  it's  good 
— it  kinder  eases  my  mind  like." 

"In  course  it  does,"  said  Dolf,  and  he  cut  the  tart  into 
four  pieces,  having  an  idea  that  the  last  slice  would  revert 
to  him  in  the  end. 

They  ate  the  pie  and  talked  amicably  over  it,  while  in 
the  end  Dolf  received  the  extra  piece  by  earnestly  pressing 
it  on  his  companions,  who  in  turn  insisted  upon  his  eating 
it  himself. 

"  Mebby  Sally'd  like  a  taste,"  he  said,  virtuously. 

"  Sally,  'deed  no  !  "  cried  Clo.  "  It's  miff  fur  her  ter  see 
such  tings  widout  eatin'  'em — a  lazy,  good-fur-notin'  piece." 

"  Den  ter  'blige  yer  I'll  dispose  of  it,"  said  Dolf,  and  he 
did  so  in  just  three  mouthfuls. 

"  If  yer  wants  my  'pinion  ?bout  what's  gwine  on,"  said 
Clo,  suddenly,  as  she  rose  to  pile  up  the  dishes  ahe  had  been 


KITCHEN      GOSSIP.  3'J1 

using  preparatory  to  making  poor  Sally  wash  them  in  the 
kitchen  ;  "  it's  jis'  dis  yer  !  Dis  trouble's  all  missus  !  " 

"  Missus  !  "  repeated  Vic. 

"  Now  what  does  yer  mean  ?  "  cried  Dolf. 

Clo  nodded  her  head  several  times  with  gravity  and  pre 
cision. 

"  Yes,  missis,"  she  repeated,  with  the  firmness  of  a  person 
who  meant  what  she  said,  and  was  fully  prepared  to  defend 
her  opinion. 

"  What's  come  over  her  ?  "  asked  Vic. 

"Dat's  jis'  it,"  returned  Clo;  "now  you've  hit  it  prezact 
— yer  might  talk  a  week,  Victy,  and  not  come  inter  de  pint 
agin." 

Victoria  looked  at  Dolf,  and  he  looked  at  her,  but,  how 
ever  convincing  her  own  words  might  have  seemed  to  Clo- 
rincla,  there  was  nothing  to  throw  any  light  upon  thoir 
minds. 

"Yer's  repeatin'  wid  yer  usual  knowledge,"  said  Dolf, 
softly,  "  but  can't  yer  sperficate  a  leetle  more  clear." 

"  Mr.  Dolf,"  said  Clorinda,  rolling  .up  her  eyes  'till  only 
the  whites  were  visible,  "when  I  lives  in  a  house  de  secrets 
ob  dat  house  is  locked  in  my  bussom — " 

"  But  ter  feller  domestics,"  put  in  artful  Dolf. 

"  Jis'  'mong  us,"  said  Vic. 

"  I  know,  I  feels  dat,  and  so  I  speak,"  replied  Clo.  "  I 
ain't  gwine  ter  say  Miss  Mellon  is  a  favoright  ob  mine, 
'cause  she  ain't  —  but  she's  my  missus.  Her  ways  isn't 
my  ways,  dat's  all  I  says,  and  I  hain't  recustomed  to  bein' 
brung  up  so  sharp  roun'  de  corners  as  is  her  way  ter  do." 

"  Tain't  ter  be  'spected,"  said  Dolf. 

"  Mebby  'tis  and  mebby  'tisn't,"  returned  Clorinda  ;  "  I 
only  says  I  ain't  recustomed  to  it,  dat's  all." 

"  But  what  do  yer  tinks  happened  ter  her  ter  put  'ein 
all  in  sich  a  to-do  ?"  questioned  Victoria. 

"  I  ain't  prepared  ter  say  ezzactly,"  replied  Clo,  "  but  I 


3G2  KITCHEN      GOSSIP. 

link  she's  gwine  crossways  wid  marster  anddat  lubly  angel, 
Miss  Elsie.  Par's  a  syrup  fur  ye!  She  nebber  gubs  a 
pusson  orders  widout  eben  lookin'  at  'em — she  ain't  so  high 
and  mighty  dat  de  ground  ain't  good  'nuff  for  her  ter  walk 
on  !  Not  but  what  missus  a  mighty  fine  woman — she  steps 
off  like  a  queen,  and  I  tell  yer  when  she's  dressed  der  ain't 
many  kin  hold  a  candle  ter  her,  and  as  fur  takin'  de  shine 
off,  wal,  I'd  jis'  like  ter  see  anybody  do  dat." 

"  It's  all  true,"  said  Dolf,  "  as  true  as  preachin'  !  " 

"  Mr.  Dolf,"  said  Clo,  gravely,  "don't  take  dem  serious 
nesses  so  lightsome  on  yer  lips." 

"  I  won't,"  said  Dolf,  humbly,  "  I  begs  ter  'polegise — 
yer  see  in  gazing  'bout  de  world  a  gemman  'quires  some 
parts  ob  speech  as  seems  keerless,  but  dey  don't  come  from 
de  heart." 

"Fse  glad  dey  don't,"  observed  Clorinda,  "bery  glad, 
Mr.  Dolf." 

"  But  what  do  yer  tink  missus  has  done  ?  "  demanded 
Victoria. 

Such  a  straightforward  question  was  rather  a  puzzler  to 
Clorinda,  so  she  answered  with  a  stately  air : 

"  Der's  questions  I  couldn't  answer  eben  ter  my  most 
intemancies — don't  press  it,  Victy." 

Victoria's  big  eyes  began  to  roll  wildly  in  their  sockets ; 
she  was  astonished  to  find  that  Clo  had  for  some  time  seen 
that  things  were  going  wrong,  when  the  fact  had  escaped 
her  own  observation,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  the  course 
of  their  acquaintance,  she  felt  a  sort  of  respect  for  her 
usual  foe  but  temporary  ally. 

"  Does  yer  tink  dey's  quarr'ling  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  When  I  hears  thunder,"  said  Clo,  sententiously,  "  I 
allers  takes  it  there's  a  storm  brewin'." 

Vic  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and  Dolf  was  not 
much  better  off,  though  he  tried  to  appear  full  to  the  brim 
with  wisdom  and  sagacity. 


KITCHEN      GOSSIP.  du-5 

"Yer  'members  the  night  missus  lost  her  bracelet,  Mr. 
Dolf?"  asked  Clo. 

"  I  does  bery  well." 

"  When  missus  bemeaned  herself  to  shout  out  at  me  as  if 
I'd  been  a  sarpint,"  cried  Clo,  viciously.  "  Wai,  if  ever  I 
see  thunder  I  seed  it  in  marster's  face  dat  ar  night !  "  ^ 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Victoria,  bundling  up  her  work,  "if 
JTOU  and  Mr.  Dolf  has  got  secrets  to  talk  ober,  I'd  better  go 
'way." 

"  Who's  a  destryin'  the  harmony  now  ?  "  shouted  Clo. 
"  It's  raal  sinful,  Victory,  to  give  way  to  temper  like  you 
does." 

"  Oh,  dat's  all  fine  'nuff.  But  I  don't  wish  to  stand  in 
nobody's  way.  I'd  better  take  my  work  upstairs." 

"  Set  still,  set  still,  Miss  Victory,"  urged  Dolf.  "  Der's 
no  secret.  We  shall  have  de  uttermost  pleasure  in  making 
you  'quainted  wid  de  pint  in  question." 

Clorinda  did  not  look  altogether  pleased  with  his  eager 
ness  to  explain  ;  she  rather  liked  Victoria  to  suppose  there 
was  a  secret  between  Dolf  and  herself;  it  seemed  like  pay 
ing  off  old  scores,  and  though  in  a  friendly  mood,  Clorinda 
was  a  woman  still. 

"  'Splain  or  not,  jis'  as  yer  please,"  said  Vic,  tossing  her 
head,  viciously,  lt  it's  quite  'material  to  me." 

But  Dolf  gave  a  voluble  account  of  what  his  master  and 
mistress  had  said  and  done  the  night  the  bracelet  was  lost, 
and  ornamented  the  conversation  beautifully,  calling  on 
Clorinda  to  set  him  right  if  he  erred,  and  the  points  where 
Clo  most  loudly  expressed  her  approval  as  being  the  exact 
words  spoken,  were  those  Dolf  embroidered  most  highly. 

"  Why,  dar  goes  marster  now,"  exclaimed  Victoria,  sud 
denly.  "  He's  gwine  out  to  walk." 

They  all  rushed  to  the  window  to  look,  as  if  there  had 
been  something  wonderful  in  the  sight,  and  just  then  Sally 
rushed  in  with  a  cry  : 

"  The  soup's  bilin'  overj  Clo  j  come — quick  !  " 


364    THE   INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM. 

CHAPTER   LVIII. 

THE  INTERCEPTED  TELEGRAM. 

THAT  afternoon  confinement  in  the  house  became  so  irk 
some  to  Grantley  Mellen  that  he  could  support  it  no  longer, 
so  he  put  on  his  hat  and  hurried  out  into  the  grounds. 

Upon  one  point  his  mind  was  fully  made  up.  The  clue 
to  the  mystery  appeared  to  be  in  his  hands  ;  he  would  follow 
it  out  to  the  end  now — he  would  know  the  worst.  If  this 
woman  had  wronged  him  lie  resolved  to  sweep  her  out  of  his 
life,  even  as  he  had  done  that  false  one  in  years  gone  by. 

That  thought  drove  him  nearly  mad,  it  recalled  that 
writing.  Should  it  prove  the  same  !  If  this  man  had  a 
second  time  thrust  himself  into  his  life  to  blacken  it  with 
his  treachery  and  hate  !  Terrible  words  died,  half  uttered, 
on  Melleirs  lips,  his  face  was  fairly  livid  with  passion,  a 
loathing  and  a  hatred  which  only  blood  could  wipe  out. 

Below  the  house  the  lawn  and  gardens  led  away  into  a 
grove,  and  towards  its  gloom  Mellen  mechanically  directed 
his  steps  under  the  cold,  gray  .sky.  A  chill  wind  was 
blowing  up  from  the  water,  but  he  did  not  observe  it;  in 
the  fever  which  consumed  him  the  air  seemed  absolutely 
stifling,  and  he  hurried  on,  increasing  its  excess  by  rapid 
movements. 

He  was  in  the  grove,  walking  up  and  down,  with  no  set 
tled  purpose,  striving  only  to  escape  those  maddening 
thoughts  which  still  clung  to  him. 

The  wind  was  shaking  the  few  remaining  leaves  from  the 
trees  and  blowing  them  about  in  rustling  dreariness,  the 
frosts  had  already  touched  the  grass  and  ferns,  and  though 
the  place  on  a  bright  day  would  still  have  been  lovely,  it 
looked  bare  and  melancholy  enough  under  that  frowning 
sky. 


THE  INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM.    365 

"It  is  like  my  life,"  muttered  Mellon;  "like  my  life, 
with  an  added  blackness  coming  up  beyond." 

Then  his  mood  changed  ;  again  that  fierce  passion  swept 
over  his  face,  leaving  it  dangerous  and  terrible. 

"  If  that  woman  has  deceived  me,"  he  cried  aloud,  "  this 
time  I  will  have  no  mercy  !  She  shall  taste  her  degradation 
to  the  very  dregs  ;  there  is  no  depth  of  shame  through 
which  I  will  not  drag  her,  though  I  ruin  my  own  soul  in 
doing  it !  But  it  can't  be  !  it  can't  be  !  It  were  death  to 
believe  it !  Oh,  Elizabeth,  Elizabeth  !  " 

Every  tender  feeling  of  his  nature  went  out  in  that  last 
agonizing  cry.  For  the  first  time  he  realised  all  that  this 
woman  had  been  to  him,  how  completely  she  had  woven 
herself  with  his  life,  and  what  a  terrible  blank  it  would 
become  if  he  were  forced  to  tear  her  from  it. 

He  made  an  effort  to  check  those  black  thoughts,  to 
invent  excuses ;  he  was  almost  inclined  to  rush  into  the 
house,  beg  for  the  truth  and  promise  pardon  in  advance. 
Then  he  called  himself  a  weak  fool  for  the  idea  that  any 
excuse  was  possible. 

"  I  will  wait — I  have  the  clue — it  will  all  be  made  clear 
soon.  I  will  wait." 

He  clenched  his  hands  with  a  groan  that  was  half 
anguish,  half  rage,  and  hurried  more  swiftly  into  the 
depths  of  the  woods. 

He  came  out  upon  a  little  eminence,  from  whence  he 
could  look  down  on  the  paths  and  avenues  leading  towards 
the  house,  though  the  dwelling  itself  was  hidden  by  the 
thick  growth  of  trees. 

Along  the  high  road  he  saw  his  wife  riding  at  full  speed 
toward  the  woods,  through  which  she  passed  with  weary 
slowness,  walking  her  horse  homeward,  and  looking  anxi 
ously  down  upon  his  reeking  sides,  and  smoothing  his  neck 
with  her  hand,  as  if  troubled  by  those  signs  of  hard  riding. 

Where  had  the  woman  been.  What  deception  was  she 
practising  now  ? 


366    THE   INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM. 

Mellen  could  see  his  wife's  face  plainly — for  she  passed 
near  him  quite  unconsciously.  It  was  pale  and  wild  with 
the  fear  of  a  hunted  animal. 

"  Traitoress ! "  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  "  she 
thinks  to  evade  me." 

He  watched  the  slow  progress  of  Gipsy  as  she  walked 
toward  the  house,  taking  the  lawn,  evidently  because  her 
rider  feared  to  give  warning  of  her  expedition  by  the  sound 
of  hoofs  on  the  beaten  track.  He  saw  Elizabeth  dismount 
unaided,  and  go  wearily  into  the  house. 

Where  had  she  been  ? 

Over  and  over  Mellen  asked  himself  this  question,  as  he 
sat  minute  after  minute,  pondering  over  the  most  bitter 
thoughts  that  ever  haunted  a  man's  brain. 

It  might  have  been  an  hour  after,  when  he  saw  a  man 
coining  up  from  the  direction  of  the  village,  walking  for 
ward  with  great  rapid  strides.  Instantly  his  suspicions  fell 
upon  this  new  object.  He  was  always  keen-sighted  enough, 
but  just  then  the  thought  in  his  mind  made  his  vision  still 
quicker  and  more  clear. 

Without  pausing  for  an  instant's  reflection  he  darted  down 
the  hill — as  he  approached  the  figure  it  disappeared.  On 
into  the  woods  Mellen  followed  the  intruder,  and  before  he 
could  look  around  grasped  his  arm  with  a  clutch  so  firm  that 
there  was  no  shaking  it  off. 

"  Rascal !  "  he  cried,  ie  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  Answer 
me,  or  I'll  shake  you  to  pieces  ! " 

The  man  struggled  violently,  but  Mellen  was  like  a  giant 
in  his  passion,  and  swung  him  to  and  fro  as  if  he  had  been 
a  child. 

"  Let  me  alone  !  "  cried  the  man.  "  I  ain't  a  doing  no 
harm ! " 

4<  What  are  you  prowling  about  my  house  for,  then  ?  Do 
you  know  that  I  am  master  here  ?  I  shall  take  you  in 
doors,  and  keep  you  till  I  can  send  for  a  constable.  Take 
care,  no  resistance  ;  what  is  your  business  here  ?  " 


THE   INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM.    367 

"  I  wasn't  prowling  round,"  pleaded  the  man,  gasping  for 
breath  in  Mellen's  hard  grasp  ;  "  I  thought  these  woods  was 
public  property." 

"  Then  you  shall  be  taught.  You  had  some  errand  here 
— speak  out,  or  by  the  Lord  I'll  kill  you ! n 

"  Don't — don't !  You're  choking  me  ! "  groaned  the 
wretch. 

"  Then  speak  !  What  are  you  doing  here — whom  do  you 
want  to  see  ?  " 

"  Just  tat  me  go  and  I'll  tell  you,"  pleaded  his  prisoner. 
"  I  can't  speak  while  you're  throttling  me." 

Mellen  loosened  his  grasp  on  the  man's  throat,  but  still 
held  him  fast.  His  hold  had  been  a  fearful  one — the  man 
was  actually  breathless. 

"  Will  you  speak  now  ? "  he  demanded,  with  terrible 
menace  in  his  voice. 

The  man  began  to  breathe  more  freely ;  but,  though 
shaking  with  fear,  he  answered  sullenly : 

"  I  hain't  got  nothin'  to  tell ;  I  was  going  to  the  house 
yonder,  and  took  a  short  cut  through  here." 

"  What  business  have  you  at  the  house  ?  Tell  me  the 
truth,  for  I  will  know." 

The  man  could  both  see  and  feel  that  he  was  in  horrible 
earnest ;  he  might  easily  have  supposed  himself  in  the  power 
of  an  insane  man — and  for  the  moment  Mellen  was  little 
better. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  you  have  a  right  to  ask  ?  "  ques 
tioned  the  man. 

"  I  am  the  master  of  that  house.     Now  will  you  speak  ? ? 

"  Yes,"  faltered  the  man,  "  I'll  tell  you.  It's  a  telegram 
that  I  was  carrying  to  the  lady ;  nothing  wrong  in  that  I 
hope." 

"  No  harm,  certainly  ;  give  the  telegram  to  me.  I  will 
deliver  it." 

The  man  gave  up  the  telegram.     The    envelope  which 


368    THE   INTERCEPTED   TELEGRAM. 

contained  it  was  sealed,  but  Mellen  tore  it  open  without  a 
moment's  hesitation.  Even  as  he  unfolded  the  paper,  his 
hand  faltered — in  the  very  height  of  his  rage  he  could  not 
think  of  the  woe  its  contents  might  bring,  without  a  sharp 
pang. 

He  read  it  slowly,  standing  there  motionless,  unable,  at 
first,  to  take  in  the  full  extent  of  his  crushing  anguish. 
"  Have  no  fear.  I  will  be  at  the  old  spot,  prompt  to  help 
you.  All  shall  be  prepared." 

This  was  the  telegram.  There  was  no  signature  —  it 
needed  none.  Mellen  knew  only  too  well  who  the  writer 
was,  knew  it  as  thoroughly  as  he  did  the  woman  for  whom 
it  was  intended. 

For  a  full  half  hour  Grafttley  Mellen  was  a  madman. 
The  fever  and  the  insanity  passed  at  length ;  he  lay  upon 
the  ground,  staring  up  at  the  cold  sky,  the  telegram  still 
clutched  in  one  hand,  the  other  dug  deeply  into  the  earth, 
in  a  wild  conflict  of  passion  that  shook  him  to  the  soul. 
He  raised  himself  and  looked  about ;  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  been  suffering  in  a  fearful  dream — he  glanced  down  at 
the  paper — that  brought  conviction  back. 

He  sat  there  for  a  long  time  revolving  vague  plans  in  his 
rnind,  and  deciding  upon  the  course  he  would  pursue. 

"  Meet  craft  with  craft,"  he  muttered ;  "  their  own  evil 
weapons." 

He  rose  from  the  ground,  arranged  his  dress,  and  walked 
towards  the  house. 

"  Not  a  sign,  not  a  word  which  can  betray,"  he  said 
aloud.  "  I  will  meet  her  with  a  duplicity  equal  to  her  own, 
—wait — a  little  longer — only  a  little  longer." 

He  walked  towards  the  house,  and  again  Victoria  called 
out  to  her  companions  : 

"  Here  comes  marster  as  fast  as  fast  can  be." 

But  Clorinda's  thoughts  were  now  centred  upon  her  din 
ner,  and  she  had  no  time  even  for  gossip. 


FORCED      HOSPITALITY.  369 

"  Get  away  from  dat  window  and  go  'bout  your  work," 
cried  the  dark  spinster,  austerely  ;  "  what  hev  yer  got  to  do 
wid  de  marster's  outgoin's  or  incomin's  ?  Beat  dese  eggs 
into  a  foam  rite  off,  for  I'se  in  a  hurry.  Mr.  Dolf  puts  one 
back  so." 

Victoria  cast  one  more  glance  through  the  window,  for 
the  wild  agony  on  her  master's  face  rather  alarmed  her. 
But  Clorinda  called  out  in  a  voice  so  shrill  that  it  was  not 
to  be  disregarded,  and  she  was  constrained  to  undertake  the 
task  assigned  her  without  more  delay. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

FORCED    HOSPITALITY. 

WHILE  Mellen  stood  on  the  veranda  in  front  of  the 
house,  Mr.  Rhodes  came  up  the  avenue.  There  was  no  hope 
of  escape  for  him  ;  he  had  not  perceived  the  visitor  until  it 
was  too  late  to  retreat,  and  a  voice  called  out : 

"Oh,  there  you  are,  old  fellow;  I'm  in  luck  after  all. 
You  see  I  walked  over  to  my  farm  on  the  back  road,"  he 
explained,"  "intending  to  take  the  half-past  three  train  to 
New  York,  but  I  missed  it.  So  I  said  to  myself,  '  I'll  cut 
across  the  fields,  down  the  hill,  and  stop  at  Mellen 's,  beg  a 
dinner,  and  get  him  to  send  me  over  in  time  for  the  five 
o'clock  train  ' — wasn't  a  bad  idea,  eh  ?  " 

"  A  very  good  idea  on  the  contrary,"  Mellen  answered, 
with  a  desperate  attempt  at  hospitality,  while  the  visitor 
wrung  his  hand  again  and  burst  into  shouts  of  laughter,  as 
if  some  wonderfully  good  joke  lay  in  the  affair.  "  And  how 
is  your  good  lady?"  he  asked.  "And  the  pretty  little 
sister — quite  well,  eh  ?  " 
23 


370  FORCED      HOSPITALITY. 

"  Tolerably  so,"  Mellon  answered  ;  "  complains  of  head 
ache  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

He  conducted  his  guest  into  the  library,  and  meeting 
Dolf  in  the  hall,  directed  him  to  inform  his  mistress  of  the 
arrival. 

Mellen  made  an  effort  to  be  civil  though  the  man  was 
tiresome  in  the  extreme  ;  perhaps  it  was  better  to  endure  his 
society  than  to  meet  his  wife  that  day  without  the  restraint 
of  a  stranger's  presence. 

Indeed,  without  some  of  those  social  restraints  to  which 
all  men  are  more  or  less  slaves,  it  is  doubtful  if  Mellen 
could  have  appeared  so  perfectly  calm.  As  it  was,  the  fire 
that  consumed  him  raged  unseen.  Dolf  carried  his  mes 
sage  upstairs,  where  it  was  received  with  a  little  shriek 
from  Elsie,  and  blank  dismay  on  the  part  of  Elizabeth. 

"  I  can't  go  down,"  she  said  ;  "  Elsie,  you  must  take  my 
place  at  the  table.  Say  that  I  am  ill,  fainting,  anything." 

"  Indeed,  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  returned  Elsie; 
"  if  you  don't  go  down  I  shall  stay  with  you.  I  am  ner 
vous  as  I  can  be,  and  if  you  are  not  at  the  table  I  shall 
break  down  completely. 

The  girl  was  full  of  selfishness  to  the  very  last — not  will 
ing  to  yield  her  comfort  in  the  slightest  particular,  but 
Elizabeth  only  sighed  as  she  observed  it,  and  said,  quietly : 

"  After  all,  it  is  just  as  well — change  your  dress,  Elsie." 

These  two  women  commenced  the  duties  of  a  dinner 
toilet  with  heavy  hearts,  scarcely  heeding  what  they  put  on. 

But  when  the  dinner  hour  approached,  they  entered  the 
drawing-room  together  and  almost  smiling,  Elsie  looking 
exquisitely  pretty  in  her  dark  blue  silk,  with  those  bright 
ringlets  floating  about  her  shoulders ;  her  volatile  spirits 
were  already  rising  at  the  idea  of  an  escape  from  that 
shadowy  chamber  where  she  had  dragged  through  the  dajr. 

Elizabeth  was  calm  and  self-possessed  as  ever.  To  a 
casual  observer  she  looked  pale,  but  her  heavy  black  dress 


FORCED      HOSPITALITY.  371 

might  account  for  that,  and  the  delicate  contrast  it  gave  to 
her  complexion  made  amends  for  any  lack  of  bloom. 

Mellen  sat  watching  her  while  she  greeted  Mr.  Rhodes, 
and  listened  patiently  to  his  labored  compliments. 

"Is  she  stone — ice?"  he  thought.  "  Is  there  no  touch 
of  nature  about  her  that  she  can  be  so  calm  ?  " 

If  the  man  could  have  read  her  mind,  he  might  have 
pitied  her  even  in  the  midst  of  his  anger  and  fearful  doubts. 
What  she  suffered  in  putting  that  terrible  restraint  upon 
herself  was  almost  beyond  the  power  of  belief;  but  woman 
like,  having  formed  her  resolution,  not  all  the  tortures  of 
the  rack  could  have  driven  her  from  it. 

Elsie  had  seated  herself  on  a  low  stool  at  her  brother's 
feet ;  he  sat  absently  playing  with  her  curls,  and  looking 
moodily  into  the  fire,  but  he  had  no  words  even  for  her, 
though  she  tempted  him  with  rather  mournful  smiles.  But 
he  had  been  so  silent  and  sullen  by  times  during  the  past 
week,  that  there  was  not  change  enough  in  his  manner  to 
be  at  all  perceptible. 

Sometimes  Elizabeth  glanced  over  at  the  pair,  and  then 
some  sharp  pain  contracted  her  brows,  but  there  was  no 
other  appearance  of  emotion  ;  she  would  control  even  that 
instantly,  and  bending  her  head  once  more,  listen  patiently 
to  her  persecutor's  verbiage. 

Dolf  announced  dinner,  and  the  party  passed  into  the 
dining-room,  Mr.  Rhodes  honoring  the  hostess  with  his 
arm.  As  Mellen  and  his  sister  followed,  Elizabeth  heard 
Elsie  whisper  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Grant,  dear,  you  are  not  cross  with  me  ?  " 

In  the  midst  of  Mr.  Rhodes's  uproarious  laugh  at  one  of 
his  own  jokes,  she  caught  Mellen's  answer  : 

"  Never,  darling,  never  !  You  are  my  one  comfort — my 
only  blessing." 

With  her  head  more  proudly  erect,  a  faint  crimson  begin 
ning  to  burn  on  her  cheeks,  Elizabeth  Mellen  walked  on 


372  FORCED      HOSPITALITY. 

and  took  her  seat  at  the  table,  appearing  so  completely  en 
grossed  in  Mr.  Rhodes's  conversation  that  she  did  not  once 
meet  her  husband's  eye. 

To  all  but  the  guest,  that  dinner  seemed  interminable, 
but  Mr.  Rhodes  was  so  busy  with  the  delicacies  Clorinda's 
skillful  hands  had  prepared,  and  so  full  of  himself,  that  he 
was  in  a  perfect  glow  of  content. 

The  lights  danced  before  Elizabeth's  eyes,  every  morsel 
she  eat  was  swallowed  with  a  pang,  the  wine  was  like  a 
bitter  drug  on  her  lips,  yet  there  she  sat  in  patient  endur 
ance. 

Occasionally  Mellen  glanced  towards  her,  and  her  com 
posure  sent  such  a  thrill  of  rage  through  his  soul,  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  he  could  keep  from  springing  up  and 
overwhelming  her  with  the  discovery  he  had  made,  on  the 
spot. 

The  dinner  was  over  at  last,  but  tedious  as  it  had 
seemed  to  Elizabeth,  she  would  gladly  have  prolonged  it : 
anything  to  lengthen  the  hours ;  to  keep  afar  off  the  still 
ness  of  the  night,  when  she  must  undertake  that  to  which 
she  had  doomed  herself. 

But  she  would  not  think  of  that ;  she  dared  not ;  mad 
ness  lay  so  near  the  dismal  reflection  that  it  must  be  swept 
from  her  mind. 

They  dragged  through  the  evening ;  Elizabeth  played 
cribbage  with  Mr.  Rhodes,  and  Elsie  gave  snatches  of  des 
ultory  music  at  the  piano ;  every  time  her  fresh  young 
voice  rang  out  in  joyous  song  Elizabeth  started,  as  if  an 
unseen  dagger  had  struck  her  to  the  heart. 

"  You  will  all  come  and  pass  a  day  with  us  before  long,  I 
hope,"  Mr.  Rhodes  said,  with  exhuberant  hospitality,  when 
the  time  came  at  last  to  order  the  carriage  for  his  departure. 

Elizabeth  only  answered  with  a  wan  smile.  She  could 
hardly  stand.  Mellen  accompanied  his  visitor  through  the 
hall,  and  the  instant  they  disappeared  Elizabeth  started  for 
the  door. 


WAITING      FOR      THE      HOUR.  6i6 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  To  my  room  ;  I  can't  bear  this." 

« I'll  go—" 

"No,  no,  not  yet;  stay  awhile,  for  heaven's  sake  let  me 
rest  alone  one  moment.  She  staggered  through  the  dining- 
room  and  was  gone;  when  Mellen  entered  the  library  again, 
Elsie  sat  alone  by  the  fire,  teasing  the  cat,  looking  cheer 
fully  pretty  and  childlike. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

WAITING    FOR   THE    HOUR. 

THE  clock  in  Elizabeth's  dressing-room  had  struck  eleven, 
but  there  she  sat  desolately  looking  into  the  fire,  just  as  she 
had  sunk  into  her  chair  on  first  entering  the  chamber. 

She  heard  her  husband  and  Elsie  ascend  the  stairs  a  full 
hour  before,  but  Mr.  Mellen  went  straight  on  towards  his 
own  apartments.  He  had  not  entered  hers  since  the  day 
the  bracelet  was  found ;  she  knew  well  that  he  would  not 
intrude  upon  her  then. 

For  two  long  hours  she  had  been  alone  with  her  dismal 
thoughts,  no  sound  broke  the  stillness,  save  the  monotonous 
ticking  of  the  clock  or  an  occasional  sob  and  moan  from  the 
half  spent  wind  without. 

There  was  too  much  anxiety  and  agony  in  her  mind  for 
any  of  the  nervous  terrors  which  had  haunted  her  during 
the  day.  Then,  as  she  thought  what  the  coming  of  the 
night  would  bring  her,  the  heart  in  her  bosom  shuddered. 
Now  it  stood  still  and  seemed  hardening  into  iron.  If 
some  spirit  had  appeared  with  an  articulate  warning,  she 
could  not  have  been  more  convinced  that  exposure  and 
ruin  were  approaching  her  with  rapid  strides.  She  would 


37  i  WAITING      FOR      THE      HOUR. 

do  her  best,  but  that, she  knew  in  her  innermost  soul,  would 
lead  to  destruction.  She  looked  back  on  the  past  weeks, 
and  tried  to  remember  if  her  plans  had  failed  through  her 
own  weakness. 

Before  Mellen's  return  it  had  seemed  possible  to  carry 
them  out,  to  bury  the  past  utterly,  and  build  a  new  palace 
of  hope  on  its  grave,  but  they  had  all  failed.  It  was  not 
her  fault,  she  had  borne  up  as  bravely  as  any  woman  could 
have  done  under  the  circumstances,  had  been  as  circumspect 
and  guarded  as  it  was  possible  to  be,  but  from  the  moment 
of  his  inopportune  arrival,  some  untoward  event  had  occur 
red  to  thwart  every  project  she  had  endeavered  to  carry  out 
for  her  own  salvation. 

"It  is  fate,"  she  muttered,  in  a  cold  whisper;  "it  is 
fate  !  Oh,  my  God,  help  me,  help  me,  for  I  have  yet  a  right 
to  pray ! " 

No,  even  the  consolations  of  prayer  were  denied  this 
most  wretched  woman  ;  the  words  seemed  to  freeze  upon 
her  lips  ;  she  could  only  moan  in  that  broken  whisper: 

"  My  God,  help  me,  help  me  ! " 

As  she  sat  there,  the  door  opened  and  Elsie  softly  entered 
the  apartment.  She  had  taken  off  her  evening-dress,  and 
put  on  a  loose  white  wrapper,  and  over  that  had  thrown  a 
crimson  shawl,  which  made  the  pallor  that  had  come  over 
her  face  still  more  apparent. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  chamber  except  that  given  by 
the  fire. 

Elizabeth  had  extinguished  the  lamps  ;  the  gloom  and 
the  shadows  befitted  her  mournful  thoughts. 

"  Bessie,  Bessie  ?  "  called  Elsie,  unable  at  first  to  dis- 
tingush  any  object  in  the  half  light.  "  Are  you  there  ?  " 

"  Here  I  am,"  was  the  hoarse  answer;  "  come  in." 

"  I  was  so  afraid  to  be  alone  with  Grant,"  continued 
Elsie  ;  "  I  felt  as  if  I  should  scream  every  moment." 

"  What  did  he  say  to  you  ;  what  did  my  huobund  talk 
about  ? " 


WAITING      FOR      THE      HOUR.  375 

"Oh,  nothing  in  particular;  he  said  very  little ;  he  did 
not  even  ask  where  you  were.  I  told  him  you  had  gone  to 
bed  with  a  headache,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  hear.  He  sat 
and  looked  in  the  fire,  as  if  he  were  reading  something  in 
the  red  hot  coals ;  after  a  long  time  he  asked  me  if  I 
loved  him,  and  kissed  my  forehead.  That  was  all." 

Elizabeth  struck  her  hands  hard  together,  choked  back 
the  groan  which  rose  to  her  lips,  and  sat  gazing  into  the 
fire,  as  if  she  too  read  something  terrible  in  the  scarlet 
caverns  which  were  breaking  up  and  forming  in  its  midst. 

"  I'm  so  cold,"  shivered  Elsie  ;  "  there  isn't  half  enough 
coal  in  the  grate." 

Cold  !  The  chill  had  crept  into  Elizabeth's  very  soul 
which  no  power  of  hers  could  warm,  and  close  to  her  that 
weak  creature  crouched,  moaning  out  her  petty  complaints ! 

Even  then,  up  to  the  last,  while  the  glittering  hands  of 
the  clock  were  seen  in  the  firelight,  creeping  swiftly  over 
the  dial,  and  its  solemn  tick  measured  off  the  awful  minute 
on  which  Elizabeth  had  agreed  with  her  own  soul  to  go 
forth  on  her  terrible  errand,  the  wretched  woman  was  com 
pelled  to  pause  in  that  dim  chamber,  worse  than  dead  her 
self,  to  comfort  and  soothe  the  creature  who  lay  like  a 
wounded  fawn  on  the  hearth. 

"  What  time  is  it,  Bessie  ?  " 

She  raised  herself  and  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  Half-past  eleven/'  answered  Elizabeth,  solemnly.  "  My 
hour  has  come  !  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  later,"  groaned  Elsie.  "  Will  it  never 
be  morning  ?  " 

"  Soon  enough,"  whispered  Elizabeth,  t(  soon  enough." 

"  I  wonder  if  Grant  has  gone  to  bed ;  I  asked  him  if 
he  was  sleepy,  and  he — " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  only  gave  a  queer  sort  of  laugh,  and  said,  '  Sen 
sible  people  always  are  sleepy  when  it  comes  bedtime.' " 


376  WAITING      FOR      THE      HOUR. 

Elizabeth  had  said  truly  her  hour  had  come,  but  she 
could  not  go  yet ;  she  must  wait  until  all  danger  of  discov 
ery  was  over — stand  there  breathless  while  her  husband 
forgot  her  and  her  agony  in  peaceful  sleep.  They  were 
both  silent  for  a  time,  then  Elsie  began  to  shiver  again, 
like  some  young  bird  lost  from  its  nest  in  a  storm. 

"  Oh,  if  it  would  only  come  morning  ! " 

"  Soon  enough,  soon  enough,"  repeated  Elizabeth,  as 
before. 

"  Do  talk  to  me ;  1  shall  die  if  you  don't !  " 

"  What  can  I  say,  child  ?     I  can  only  wait — wait." 

"  Wait !     What  do  you  mean  ?     Oh,  I  know— I  know  !  " 

The  girl  broke  off  with  a  more  violent  shudder  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  What  made  you  remind  me  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  shall  go 
crazy  now.  Bessie  !  Bessie  ! " 

But  this  time,  when  the  girl  clung  to  her,  Elizabeth 
removed  her  hands,  not  impatiently,  but  with  quiet  firm 
ness. 

"  You  must  control  yourself,"  she  said.  "  I  have  upon 
me  all  that  I  can  bear  now.  Be  still,  Elsie  !  " 

"  I  will !  I  will ! "  she  sobbed.  "  Oh,  wouldn't  it  be 
better  to  be  dead  ?  " 

"  Better !  Yes,  a  thousand  times  5  but  it  is  not  easy  to 
die." 

Elsie  checked  her  sobs  again,  and  caught  at  the  hope  with 
which  she  had  sustained  herself  all  day. 

"  This  is  the  last  of  it,"  she  said  ;  "  this  night  once  safely 
over,  and  there  is  an  end." 

"  One  way  or  the  other,"  muttered  Elizabeth. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing — nothing." 

It  was  worse  than  useless,  to  agitate  the  girl's  weakness 
afresh  with  fears  that  lay  so  deep  in  her  own  mind.  Which 
ever  way  the  end  came,  Elsie  was  safe.  Was  the  creature 


WAITING      FOR      THE      HOUR.  377 

thinking  that  as  she  shut  her  eyes  and  leaned  more  closely 
against  her  sister  ? 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  all  safe  then,"  she  went  on.  "  The 
money  is  paid ;  we  shall  have  the  papers  ;  there  is  nothing 
more  to  fear." 

Elizabeth  did  not  answer ;  she  allowed  her  to  think  that 
the  danger  from  that  quarter  was  removed.  It  could  do  no 
good  to  fill  her  mind  with  added  fears. 

"  There  is  the  wind  again  ! "  cried  Elsie.  "  Oh,  if  it 
would  only  stop  !  " 

The  sound  recalled  all  that  lay  in  the  coming  hours,  and 
she  was  unnerved  again. 

"  You  are  not  frightened,  are  you,  Bessie  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  not ;  there  is  nothing  to  fear." 

"  To  be  alone  with  him  and — and —  Oh,  I  ought  to  go 
with  you  ;  I'll  try— I'll  try." 

At  that  late  hour  some  remorse  woke  in  her  mind  for 
her  unsisterly  selfishness,  but  Elizabeth  said  very  kindly  : 

"  You  will  stay  here  ;  you  could  do  no  good." 

"  But  I  shall  go  mad  while  you  are  gone." 

"  You  must  get  into  bed  again. " 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  away  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell.  Stop — don't  talk  about  it.  I  shall  go 
through  with  it  all ;  let  me  alone  till  then." 

Elsie  writhed  to  and  fro  in  hysterical  weakness. 

"  You  must  be  quiet,"  Elizabeth  said.  "  Suppose  he 
should  hear  you  ?  " 

«  Grant  ?     Oh,  I'll  be  still— I'll  be  still  as  death." 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  Elsie  asked  again. 

"  Almost  twelve  ;   the  clock  will  strike  in  a  moment." 

"  How  much  longer  shall  you  wait  ?  "  asked  the  girl  in  a 
whisper.  "  Did  he  answer  your  telegram  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  he  would,  there  was  too  much 
danger  in  it.  But  hush,  I  must  discover  if  he  is  asleep." 

«  Grantley  ?  " 


378  WAITING      FOR     THE      HOUR. 

"Yes." 

"  What  was  that  noise  ?"  Elizabeth  exclaimed  suddenly. 

"  I  heard  nothing,"  Elsie  answered,  lifting  her  head  and 
allowing  it  to  fall  again  on  her  sister's  knee. 

"  It  sounded  like  a  step  in  the  hall,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  It  was  only  your  fancy/'  returned  Elsie.  "  This  house 
is  as  still  as  the  grave." 

Elizabeth  rose  from  her  chair  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  You  are  not  going  ?  "  cried  Elsie. 

"  No  ;  I  only  want  to  look.     Be  still !  " 

Elsie  cowered  down  on  the  rug  and  muffled  herself  more 
closely  in  her  shawl,  lying  quite  still,  with  a  sort  of  comfort 
in  the  feeling  of  warmth  which  began  to  creep  over  her. 

Elizabeth  pushed  back  the  heavy  curtains  and  looked  out 
into  the  night.  A  stream  of  dim,  silvery  radiance  shot  into 
the  room,  and  played  like  rippling  water  over  the  floor. 

Elsie  half  started  to  her  feet  with  a  cry. 

"  What  is  that  ?     What  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  moon  is  up,"  said  Elizabeth,  simply. 

Elsie  laid  her  head  down  again,  Elizabeth  stood  leaning 
her  hands  on  the  window-sill,  looking  straight  before  her. 

The  moonlight  was  peculiarly  clear,  and  millions  of  stars 
shone  forth  with  the  diamond  radiance  seen  only  in  a  frosty 
night.  Every  object  was  visible.  Hoar  frost  shone  up 
whitely  from  the  crisp  grass  of  the  lawn,  and  long  black 
shadows  were  cast  downward  by  the  trees,  shaken  like 
drapery  when  the  wind  tossed  the  branches  up  and  down. 

From  where  Elizabeth  stood  she  could  look  out  over  the 
withered  flower-beds  and  into  the  thicket  beyond. 

Suddenly  her  eye  caught  sight  of  a  man  standing  under 
the  cypress  tree,  which  rose  up  gloomy  and  dark,  its 
branches  waving  slowly  to  and  fro,  looking,  to  her  excited 
fancy  like  spectral  hands  that  beckoned  her  forth  to  her 
doom. 

She  uttered  a  faint  sound  and  strained  her  eyes  towards 


WAITING      FOE,      THE     HOUR.  379 

it  with  a  chill  feeling  of  horror.  Elsie  was  roused  again 
by  the  noise,  and  asked,  quickly : 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing." 

"  What  made  you  groan,  then  ?  " 

"  I  am  looking  out,"  returned  Elizabeth,  in  a  low  voice, 
leaning  more  heavily  against  the  window  for  support,  "  he 
is  there  1" 

"  Come  away,  come  away!"  cried  Elsie,  muffling  her 
face  more  closely  in  her  shawl,  as  if  to  shut  out  some 
dreadful  object.  "  Come  back  to  the  fire,  Elizabeth,  do  !  " 

"  Surely,  if  I  can  go  out  there  to  meet  him,"  she  said, 
"  I  have  courage  enough  to  look  at  the  old  tree." 

Elsie  only  groaned  anew.  She  sat  upright  and  rested 
herself  against  the  chair  her  sister  had  left. 

"  How  does  the  night  look,  Bessie  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  low, 
scared  tone. 

"  The  moonlight  is  so  ghostly,"  returned  Elizabeth  ;  "  it 
looks  frightened.  No  wonder — no  wonder  !  " 

Elsie  trembled  more  violently,  but  it  seemed  as  if  some 
power  stronger  than  her  own  will  forced  her  to  continue 
these  harassing  questions. 

"  And  the  cypress,  Bessie,  how  does  it  look  ?  " 

"Stern  and  dark  —  no  wonder,  sheltering  him,"  cried 
Elizabeth.  "  It  beckons  to  me  j  the  branches  look  like 
giant  arms  tempting  me  to  ruin.  I  must  go — I  must  go  ! " 

Her  voice  was  little  more  than  a  whisper,  but  it  sounded 
painfully  sharp  and  distinct.  Elsie  buried  her  face  in  both 
hands,  once  more  to  shut  out  the  images  it  conjured  up. 

"  Come  back  !  "  she  moaned  ;  "  Elizabeth,  come  back  ! " 

"  I  must  go.     It  is  time." 

"  Wait — wait — just  a  moment !  Don't  go  yet — don't 
leave  me — I  shall  die  here  alone." 

Elsie  dragged  herself  along  the  floor  to  where  Elizabeth 
stood,  and  caught  her  dress  in  a  convulsive  grasp. 


380  WAITING      FOR      THE     HOUR. 

"  Wait  a  little— just  a  little  ?  " 

The  very  weakness  of  this  girl  seemed  to  give  Elizabeth 
a  sort  of  insane  composure. 

"  Let  go  my  dress/7  she  said ;  "  I  must  be  gone." 

"1  can't  stay  here — I  can't !  " 

"  Be  still— you  must,  and  shall !  " 

She  wrenched  her  garments  from  Elsie's  hands,  and  the 
girl  fell  helplessly  on  the  floor. 

"  Let  me  creep  into  bed  first,"  she  moaned  ;  "  I  shall  run 
mad  if  you  leave  me  here.  Oh,  I'll  go — I  ought  to  go ! 
What  an  unnatural  creature  I  am  !  I'll  go  ! " 

"Don't  talk— don't  think— it  is  too  late,"  whispered 
Elizabeth.  "  If  you  can  pray,  do  it." 

"I  can't— I  daren't!  Help  me  up,  Elizabeth— help  me 
up." 

But  there  was  no  response.  Elizabeth  was  bending 
towards  the  window  again,  looking  straight  at  the  cypress 
tree ;  but  the  dread  which  had  been  in  her  face  before  was 
weak  compared  to  the  horror  that  convulsed  it  now. 

"  He  is  going  there  !  "  she  cried,  in  an  awful  voice. 

Elsie  caught  hold  of  her  and  raised  herself  so  as  to  look 
out  of  the  window. 

"  Who— who  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

'•  See — see  ! "  continued  Elizabeth.  "  Some  one  is  creep 
ing  towards  the  cypress.  He  has  a  spade  in  his  hand. 
Merciful  God,  it  is  too  late  ! " 

"  Is  it  Grantley  ?  "  shrieked  Elsie.     "  Is  it  Grantley  ?  " 

"  There  he  goes  !  I  told  you  I  heard  steps  !  My  God  ! 
my  God!" 

She  fell  on  her  knees  by  the  window,  still  staring  out  into 
the  spectral  light.  Elsie  gave  one  glance,  saw  her  brother 
walking  towards  the  cypress,  and  then  sank  back,  unable 
to  venture  another  look. 


THE     MIDNIGHT     SEARCH.  381 

CHAPTER   LXI. 

THE    MIDNIGHT    SEARCH. 

ALONE  in  his  room,  Grantley  Mellen  had  sat  for  hours 
with  only  stern  thoughts  for  his  companions,  and  they  grew 
so  black  and  fierce  that  the  most  terrible  crisis  would  have 
been  less  hard  to  endure  than  that  suspense. 

He  waited  silent,  immovable,  till  the  last  sound  in  the 
house  died  away ;  waited  still  for  slumber  to  overtake  every 
inmate  of  the  dwelling,  that  he  might  carry  out  the  plan  he 
had  formed. 

He  was  going  out  to  the  cypress  tree  ;  he  would  discover 
if  his  wife's  agitation,  when  he  proposed  digging  about  it, 
was  in  any  way  connected  with  the  mystery  which  sur 
rounded  her.  He  believed  that  it  was  so,  though  in  what 
manner  it  was  impossible  to  divine.  Perhaps  there  were 
letters  hidden  there — some  condemning  evidence  against 
her  which  she  had  found  no  opportunity  since  his  return  to 
destroy.  Whatever  it  was,  he  would  discover  it,  drag  it 
out,  and  with  this  fresh  proof  of  her  treachery  in  his  hands, 
overwhelm  her  with  a  knowledge  of  her  guilt. 

He,  too,  sat  watching  the  clock,  counting  the  strokes  as 
the  hours  sounded,  but  to  him  the  time  appointed  did  not 
arrive  quickly.  It  seemed  as  if  the  hands  scarcely  moved  ; 
in  his  mad  impatience  he  thought  the  appointed  instant 
never  would  approach. 

It  was  a  terrible  vigil  that  he  kept ;  the  strongest  man 
could  not  for  many  hours  have  endured  that  strain  of  sus 
pense,  while  tortured  by  such  fiendish  whispers  as  moaned 
in  his  ear. 

The  time  came  at  last ;  the  moonlight  streamed  pale  and 
uncertain  through  the  casement ;  no  sound  broke  the  still 
ness,  even  the  wind  had  ceased  its  moaning.  He  could  go 
forth  now  without  fear  of  discovery. 


882  THE      MIDNIGHT      SEARCH. 

He  could  go  forth,  but  to  what? 

His  very  inability  to  form  an  idea  of  the  discoveries  he 
might  make,  increased  the  fever  of  his  impatience.  He 
could  wait  no  longer — not  a  moment — not  a  second. 

He  opened  the  door  and  crept  cautiously  through  the 
gallery,  down  stairs  into  the  lower  hall,  undid  the  fastenings 
of  the  outer  door  and  passed  on  to  the  veranda. 

The  garden  tools  were  some  of  them  in  a  closet  in  the 
area ;  he  went  down  the  steps,  opened  the  door,  took  out  a 
spade  and  hurried  towards  the  cypress  tree. 

There  he  was,  standing  under  the  moaning  branches,  his 
head  bare,  digging  wildly  and  aimlessly  about  the  roots, 
peering  at  every  lump  of  earth  with  his  insane  gaze,  ready 
to  believe  that  he  had  at  last  come  upon  that  nameless 
thing  for  which  he  sought. 

And  while  he  dug  furiously  into  the  earth,  Elizabeth 
Mellen  knelt  by  the  window-seat  watching  him  ;  nnd  Elsie 
lay  upon  the  floor,  so  utterly  prostrated  that  she  could  only 
cry  out  to  Elizabeth  at  intervals  in  her  sharp,  discordant 
voice : 

"  Is  he  there  yet — is  he  there  ?  " 

"  Still  there,"  she  answered. 

"What  is  he  doing?" 

"  Digging,  digging  !  He  is  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
tree." 

Elsie  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"No,  no,"  continued  Elizabeth  ;  "he  stops  to  throw  the 
earth  back — he  is  going  farther  round." 

"  Has  he  found  the  place — has  he  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

Elsie  could  not  even  groan ;  her  breath  came  in  quick 
gasps  ;  her  hands  tore  madly  at  the  carpet,  but  Elizabeth 
leaned  motionless  against  the  window-sill,  watching  always 
with  that  strained  gaze. 

"  Where  is  he  now,  Bessie  ?  " 


THE     MIDNIGHT     SEARCH.  383 

"  He  has  not  reached  it— he  is  near  !  No  !  he  is  digging 
again — he  has  not  found  the  place." 

"  If  we  could  only  stop  him,"  cried  Elsie,  roused  to  new 
courage.  "  If  I  opened  my  window  and  called  out." 

"  Too  late,  too  late  !  " 

"But  he  will  find  it— he  will  find  it !  " 

"  Then  God  help  me,  I  can  do  no  more !" 

Elsie  sprang  up  with  another  shriek. 

"  You'll  tell — you'll  tell !  I  know  you  will  give  way— 
and  Grant  will  murder  you — murder  us  all." 

Elizabeth  caught  the  frantic  creature  in  her  arms,  and 
forced  her  back  on  the  couch. 

"  Lie  still,"  she  said. 

"  Let  me  go,  I  say — let  me  go  !  I  want  to  die — I  wont 
live  after  he  finds  you  out.  I'll  kill  you,  Elizabeth,  if  you 
don't  let  me  go." 

But  Elizabeth  held  her  firmly  in  spite  of  her  insane 
struggles,  crying  out  : 

"  It  is  nothing  to  you — you  have  no  cause  to  fear.  You 
are  mad,  mad  !  I  tell  you  the  trouble  is  mine  j  whatever 
comes  falls  on  my  head ;  be  still,  Elsie." 

"  You  promise.  Swear  it — swear  not  to  bring  my  name 
in." 

"  I  have  sworn  and  I  will  keep  my  oath,"  returned  Eliza 
beth.  "Disgrace,  infamy,  death — I  will  bear  them  all 
alone.  What  should  I  gain  by  dragging  you  down  with 
me  ?  " 

She  fell  away  from  the  girl  as  she  spoke,  but  Elsie  did 
not  attempt  to  rise ;  she  lay  still  now,  exhausted  by  her 
recent  violence,  and  reassured  by  Elizabeth's  promise. 

Again  t^e  woman  leaned  against  the  window-sill  and 
looked  out  towards  the  tree.  Mellen  was  at  work  still,  more 
furiously  than  ever,  throwing  up  great  shovelsful  of  earth 
and  dashing  them  down  with  frantic  haste. 

"  Is  he  there  yet  ?  "  called  Elsie. 


384  THE      MIDNIGHT      SEARCH. 

"  Yes,  yes  !     How  he  works — dig — dig — dig  !  " 

She  stopped  suddenly :  the  silence  raised  wilder  horror  in 
Elsie's  mind. 

"  Has  he  found  it  ?  " 

"Not  yet.  He  is  standing  still  now,  he  is  throwing  the 
earth  back." 

"  What  now  —  what  now  ?"  called  Elsie,  when  Elizabeth 
paused. 

"  He  is  looking  about — he  is  puzzled.  There  is  only  that 
place  left — he  will  miss  it.  The  shadows  are  blackest 
there." 

Another  instant  of  intent  watching,  then  a  low  cry. 

"  He  is  there — he  is  there  !  " 

"  Stop  him  !  "  shrieked  Elsie.     "  Shout  to  him  !  " 

Elizabeth  whispered  hoarsely : 

"  Too  late  !  too  late  !  " 

"Is  he  digging?" 

"Yes;  wait— wait!" 

She  clutched  the  window-sill  until  her  nails  bent  and 
broke  against  the  woodwork. 

"First  on  one  side,  then  the  other,"  she  whispered. 
"  He  doesn't  touch  the  right  spot — I  know  it  so  well — night 
and  day  I  have  seen  it " 

"  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  ! " 

She  never  heeded  the  mad  cry,  pressed  closer  and  closer 
to  the  window-frame,  staring  out  as  if  every  energy  of  her 
nature  was  centred  in  that  gaze. 

"  He  has  not  found  it !  He  stops  again — he  throws  down 
the  spade  !  He  is  stamping  on  the  ground.  Oh  !  once 
more ! " 

Then  another  pause,  and  at  last  Elizabeth  cried  in  the 
same  sharp  whisper : 

"  He  is  throwing  the  earth  back — he  turns  away  ! " 

"  Saved  !  saved  ! "  shrieked  Elsie. 

Elizabeth  watched  her  husband's  movements  still.     He 


UNDER      THE      CEDAR.  385 

stood  for  some  moments  in  quiet,  then  walked  about  the 
tree  ;  she  could  feel  the  baffled  rage  that  shook  him. 

He  turned  away  at  last  and  disappeared  around  the  corner 
of  the  house.  Then  Elizabeth  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  cried  Elsie. 

"  Lie  still — don't  speak,  on  your  life  !  " 

She  ran  to  the  door  and  locked  it,  then  threw  herself  down 
by  the  fire. 

"  He  might  come  in  and  find  us,"  she  whispered. 

Elsie  crept  across  the  floor  again,  seeking  protection  at 
her  side.  There  they  waited,  hushing  their  breaths,  listen 
ing  for  the  echo  of  his  step  on  the  stairs.  It  came  at  last, 
muffled  and  cautious,  but  terribly  distinct  to  their  strained 
senses.  He  half  paused  at  the  room  where  they  were, 
passed  on,  the  door  of  his  chamber  opened  and  shut. 

"  He  has  gone  in,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Saved  !  saved  !  "  broke  again  from  Elsie,  but  there  was 
no  answering  echo  from  the  woman  by  her  side. 

For  a  time  they  sat  motionless,  whether  moments  or 
hours  neither  of  them  ever  could  have  told. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

UNDER      THE      CEDAR. 

AT   last   Elizabeth   rose,    moved   noiselessly   across    the 
chamber,  while  Elsie  raised  her  head  to  look. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  know,"  Elizabeth  answered. 

"  You  wont — you  can't !     Oh,  wait — wait !  " 

"  And  to-morrow  have  the  whole  household  look  on  while 
the  work  is  more  thoroughly  done  !  " 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  " 
42 


886  UNDER      THE      CEDAR. 

"  None.     This  is  the  last  hope  ;  I  shall  try  it." 

There  was  no  elation  in  her  voice  at  the  danger  she  had 
escaped,  no  hope  rising  tip  now  that  she  might  go  through 
her  task  in  safety,  no  dread  either  of  what  she  had  to  do, 
only  stern  determination,  the  chill  of  utter  despair,  ready 
to  struggle  but  not  to  hope.  She  wrapped  a  shawl  about 
her  without  the  slightest  appearance  of  haste,  and  stood 
still  a  little  longer,  more  like  a  marble  statue  endowed  with 
the  power  of  motion  than  a  breathing,  living  creature. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  called  Elsie. 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  not  be  long — not  long." 

But  Elsie  rushed  after  her  and  caught  her  in  her  arms. 

"  Every  moment  is  worth  a  whole  life,"  cried  Elizabeth. 
"  Let  me  go  !  " 

She  forced  the  girl  to  release  her  hold,  and  with  one 
feeble  wail  Elsie  fell  senseless  to  the  floor. 

"  Better  so,"  muttered  Elizabeth,  "  better  so  ! " 

The  excitement  she  was  laboring  under  gave  this  woman 
new  strength.  She  raised  the  insensible  girl,  carried  her 
through  the  vacant  chamber,  and  laid  her  on  the  bed  in  her 
own  room.  She  drew  the  bedclothes  over  her  inanimate 
form  and  turned  away. 

"  Now  for  the  end,"  she  murmured,  "  the  bitter,  bitter 
end." 

She  went  back  to  her  own  room,  closing  the  doors  after 
her,  then,  without  further  delay,  passed  down  the  private 
staircase  which  led  to  the  little  entry  off  the  library. 

Once  on  the  stairs  she  paused  to  listen,  but  there  was  no 
sound,  and  she  hurried  on  noiseless  as  a  spirit.  One  of  the 
shutters  was  ajar,  admitting  a  few  gleams  of  light,  by  which 
she  could  see  to  unbolt  the  door. 

She  was  out  in  the  air  at  last ;  the  first  step  was  taken  in 
safety — in  her  turn  she  flew  towards  the  cypress  tree.  She 
was  under  its  shadow,  the  branches  writhed  and  moaned 
like  living  things,  the  moon  shot  in  and  out  of  the  gather- 


UNDER     THE      CEDAR.  387 

ing  clouds,  and  cast  a  flickering,  uncertain  light  about  that 
was  more  terrible  than  the  deepest  gloom. 

As  she  stood  in  the  depth  of  the  shadows,  a  man  came 
out  from  the  thick  darkness  that  lay  under  a  neighboring 
clump  of  white  pines,  and  drew  close  to  her. 

"  I  have  been  here  some  time,"  he  whispered.  "  Every 
thing  is  ready  out  yonder — rather  rough  work  for  a  gentle 
man,  but  take  it  as  a  proof  how  ready  I  am  to  help  you, 
even  after  all  the  money  is  paid  in.  But  Jo  you  know  that 
Mellen  has  been  here  ?" 

"  I  saw  him — I  know  it  ;  we  have  no  time  !  " 

'•Fortunately,  he  will  know  why  the  earth  is  broken  up, 
having  done  it  with  his  own  hands,"  said  the  man,  with  a 
suppressed  laugh,  that  made  Elizabeth  shudder.  "  Better 
still,  he  has  left  the  spade — threw  it  down  in  angry  disap 
pointment.  That  is  fortunate,  for  mine  was  partly  disabled 
out  yonder  :  now  show  me  the  exact  spot." 

She  had  no  need  to  search,  only  too  well  she  knew  the 
place.  Night  and  day  for  weeks  the  dread  spot  had  been 
with  her,  in  every  dream  she  had  watched  men  digging, 
digging — digging  with  frantic  haste ;  and,  as  in  her  dreams, 
all  strength  seemed  to  fail,  and  some  unseen  power  to  hold 
her  back,  so  now,  in  that  frightful  reality,  her  arms  fell 
half  paralyzed,  and  she  could  not  lift  her  hand  to  point  out 
the  spot. 

To  and  fro  the  branches  swayed  above  her  head,  beating 
themselves  about,  moaning  like  evil  voices.  The  wind 
swept  up  chill  and  warningly. 

Such  a  terrible  face  it  was  that  confronted  the  man — such 
a  pale  terrified  face,  lighted  up  with  those  agonized  eyes, 
that  seemed  to  grow  large  and  wild  in  the  moonlight. 

The  man  stood  before  her,  leaning  on  his  spade,  waiting. 

"It  is  there  just  in  that  line  of  moonlight,"  she  said  at 
last,  pointing  downward  with  her  finger. 

The  man  lifted  the  spade  with  all  his  fierce  might,  and 


388  UNDER      THE      CEDAR. 

struck  it  deep  into  the  earth,  which  the  cold   nights  had 
frozen,  until  it  gave  out  a  sharp  ringing  sound. 

Elizabeth  held  her  breath ;  what  if  that  sound  had 
reached  the  house ! 

Another  firm  downward  thrust  of  the  spade  was  scarcely 
heard.  The  crust  was  broken,  the  earth  grew  soft  and 
yielding — the  wretched  woman  remembered  how  carefully 
it  had  been  packed  down  over  the  spot.  For  nights  after, 
the  hollow  sound  of  the  spade  had  rung  in  her  ears,  and 
nothing  could  dull  its  echo. 

A  horrible  fear  was  coming  over  her,  a  supernatural, 
ghostly  dread,  that  made  her  flesh  creep  and  the  hair  rise 
on  her  temples. 

Spadeful  after  spadeful  of  earth  was  thrown  out,  but  still 
the  bottom  was  not  reached.  She  had  riot  thought  it  deep 
— so  deep.  If  it  should  be  empty — if  nothing  was  there  ! 

What  if  the  place  had  been  searched  before,  if  the  least 
possibility  of  removing  that  terrible  evidence  was  gone 
beyond  her  power  ! 

The  idea  was  too  maddening,  and  she  shook  off  the  night 
mare-like  oppression  which  had  been  upon  her,  as  the  spade 
suddenly  struck  some  substance  harder  than  the  earth,  and 
rang  out  with  a  dull,  heavy  sound. 

For  one  instant  she  started  back.  She  was  alone  in  the 
night,  alone  with  that  man,  who  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
delight  that  his  task  was  so  near  done.  Elizabeth  drew 
back.  She  dared  not  even  peer  into  the  cavity.  It  was 
choked  up  with  shadows,  and  their  blackness  seemed  to 
warn  her  off. 

The  mighty  strength  that  had  carried  this  woman  for 
ward  till  now,  left  her.  The  cold  pierced  her  through  and 
through  ;  still  she  found  strength  to  speak,  and  implored 
the  man  to  complete  his  work.  He  took  up  the  spade 
again,  dropped  it  into  the  impalpable  darkness  of  the  hole 
and  pressed  it  down,  leaning  his  whole  weight  upon  it. 


FACE      TO      FACE.  389 

She  shivered  violently  now.  A  sharp  pain  ran  through 
her  chest,  as  if  she,  too,  had  been  putting  forth  some  great 
physical  energy.  Shadows  from  the  disturbed  cypress 
boughs  were  falling  all  about  her,  breaking  and  forming 
again  in  a  thousand  fantastic  movements.  But  one  shadow, 
dark,  solid  and  still,  fell  across  a  gleam  of  moonlight  at  her 
feet,  freezing  her  to  the  heart.  She  looked  slowly  up  and 
saw  her  husband. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

FACE    TO    FACE. 

several  seconds  the  husband  and  wife  remained 
looking  at  each  other  in  utter  silence  ;  the  moaning  of  the 
cypress  boughs  sounded  louder  and  more  weird  ;  through 
the  whirl  of  her  senses  Elizabeth  heard  it  still. 

"  Come  forward,"  she  heanl  her  husband's  voice  say  at 
length,  in  the  hard,  icy  tones  of  concentrated  passion. 
"  Come  forward,  woman,  that  I  may  see  your  face." 

The  words  seemed  to  come  from  a  great  distance ;  look 
ing  over  at  him,  it  seemed  as  if  that  shallow  trench  between 
them  was  a  bottomless  abyss  which  no  power  could  bridge 
over, — the  gulf  between  them  for  ever  and  ever. 

"  Come  forward,  I  say." 

She  staggered  slowly  into  the  moonlight;  the  warning 
was  fulfilled ;  ruin,  disgrace  had  come ;  yet  there  she  stood 
speechless,  motionless,  unable  even  to  give  utterance  to  a 
moan. 

The  man  who  had  been  digging,  flung  down  his  spade 
with  a  smothered  oath. 

For  a  little  time  Mellen  stood  almost  as  still  and  helpless 
as  herself.  Suddenly,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  scarcely 
human,  he  turned  upon  this  man. 


390  FACE      TO      FACE. 

"  Take  up  the  spade,  and  finish  your  work  ! " 

With  something  between  a  laugh  and  an  oath,  North 
snatched  the  spade,  plunged  it  into  the  grave,  and  pressed 
all  his  force  upon  it.  Slowly  the  edge  of  a  box  appeared. 
That  evil  man  seemed  to  triumph  in  his  gloomy  work : 
placed  one  foot  on  the  handle  of  the  spade  to  hold  it  firmly, 
bent  down  and  dragged  the  box  into  the  moonlight. 

Pulling  the  spade  up  from  the  crumbling  earth,  he  raised 
it  on  high,  and  was  about  to  dash  the  box  open.  Elizabeth 
lifted  her  hands  in  mute  appeal. 

She  hoped  nothing  from  her  husband's  forbearance.  The 
action  was  only  an  instinct  of  her  whirling  senses,  such  as 
makes  a  drowning  man  clutch  at  straws ;  but  with  i:  her 
limbs  gave  way,  and  she  fell  upon  her  knees  by  the  box, 
still  lifting  her  white  face  to  that  stern,  determined  coun 
tenance. 

"  Do  you  think  to  oppose  me  even  now  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  wonder  I  do  not  kill  you.  Ask  this  man,  this  double 
dyed  villain  to  dig  deeper  his  pit,  which  has  concealed  your 
infamy,  and  bury  you  there  alive, — that  would  be  a  mercy 
to  us  both." 

"  If  you  would  only  kill  me,"  she  moaned,  "  only  kill 
me." 

"  Stand  up,"  he  cried  again  ;  "  stand  up,  I  say." 

But  she  stretched  out  her  hands  over  the  box ;  some 
insane  idea  of  still  preserving  it  from  his  touch,  rushed 
across  her  mind. 

"  Open  it,"  he  said,  turning  fiercely  on  North  ;  "  I  will 
look  on  this  dishonor  with  my  own  eyes." 

"  Don't  open  it ;  don't  open  it !  Let  us  pass  away  from 
your  sight  for  ever." 

Mellen  caught  her  arm  and  pulled  her  roughly  away. 

"  You  shall  not  touch  the  dead,"  she  cried  ;  "  kill  me 
but  do  not  commit  sacrilege." 

Elizabeth  struggled  on  to  her  ki-ees,  and  wound  her  arms 


FACE     TO      FACE.  391 

about  him  in  a  convulsive  grasp  :  he  shook  her  off  with 
loathing,  as  if  a  poisonous  reptile  had  brushed  his  garments. 

North  stood  with  an  evil  light  in  his  eyes,  looking  on 
Mellen,  snatched  the  spade  from  his  grasp,  and  while  a 
despairing  cry  died  on  Elizabeth's  lips,  dashed  it  upon  the 
cover ;  again  and  again,  till  the  frail  board  split,  revealing 
a  gleam  of  white  underneath. 

Elizabeth  was  lying  on  the  ground — not  insensible ;  no 
such  blessed  relief  came  to  her — but  incapable  of  a  move 
ment  ;  watching  her  husband  always  with  those  insane  eyes. 

His  passion  had  exhausted  itself  in  this  sacrilegious  vio 
lence,  and  he  stood  over  the  shattered  box,  struck  with  re 
morseful  awe.  But  the  wind  swept  over  it,  lifting  some 
folds  of  transparent  muslin  from  a  little  face  that  Elizabeth 
had  seen  night  and  day  in  her  thoughts  and  her  dreams, 
since  the  dreadful  night  when  that  grave  was  dug  under 
the  cypress  tree. 

She  saw  the  face  ;  saw  her  husband  looking  down  upon  it ; 
saw  all  the  shuddering  horror  in  his  eyes.  Still  she  could 
not  move. 

"  This  has  been  a  murder ! "  he  hissed  through  his 
clenched  teeth.  "  I  swear  that  the  guilty  ones,  even  if  my 
own  name  is  dragged  down  to  infamy  with  them,  shall  be 
brought  to  judgment." 

"No,  no,"  she  moaned  ;  "not  murder;  not  that." 

He  caught  her  arm  again  and  lifted  her  up. 

"  Tell  the  truth,"  he  cried  ;  «  I  will  hear  it !  " 

She   could   only  stare  at  him  with  an  affrighted  gaze. 

"  I  will  bring  the  whole  neighborhood  to  look,"  he  went 
on  ;  "  I  will  drag  this  secret  guilt  out  in  the  face  of  day  if 
you  do  not  speak  !  I  will  give  you  no  time  ;  no  chance  of 
escape ;  speak,  or  I  will  rouse  the  whole  house,  and  let  them 
see  you  here  with  this  vile  man,  at  your  guilty  work." 

"  Wait,"  she  shivered  ;  "  wait !  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  is  ?  "    he  cried.      "  The  murder 


892  FACE      TO      FACE. 

of  a  child  !  Do  you  know  that  to-morrow  may  find  you  a 
criminal  in  the  hands  of  justice — you,  my  wife  !  You,  in 
whose  care  I  entrusted  not  only  my  honor  but  the  most 
innocent  soul  that  ever  lived.  Speak  then  !  Expect  no 
mercy  from  me ;  not  to  save  my  own  honor ;  not  to  keep  my 
own  soul  would  I  lift  one  finger  to  help  you !  Think  of  it  1 
Picture  it  to  yourself! — The  eager  crowd  gathering  about 
this  spot ;  the  hootings  and  execrations  that  will  follow  you 
forth  to  prison  !  Think  of  the  days  and  nights  in  }Tour 
lonely  cell ;  remember  the  trial !  the  sentence  !  the  horrible 
death  !  you  shall  not  escape  !  you  shall  not  escape  one  of 
these  things.'7 

"  Grantley !  Grantley !  " 

"Not  content  with  one  crime,  you  have  added  murder j 
striving  to  hide  your  guilt  with  a  deeper  sin  !  " 

"  This  child  died,"  she  moaned  j  "  it  was  God's  own 
mercy,  not  my  crime  ! " 

"Speak  then,  and  tell  the  whole  truth.  Do  it.  But 
have  no  thought  that  even  confession  can  save  you  ;  never 
hope  for  mercy  from  my  weakness  !  You  can  have  no 
enemy  who  will  prove  so  relentless  as  I  will ;  if  there  was 
a  hope  of  your  escape  I  would  hunt  you  both  down  to  utter 
disgrace — nay,  to  death  itself ! " 

"  It  is  only  to  die,"  she  muttered  ;  "  only  to  die." 

"  Will  you  speak ;  will  you  confess  ?  Tell  me  how  you 
murdered  it  ?  " 

"  There  was  no  murder." 

"But  you  buried  it;  you  and  this  fiend  who  shared  your 
guilt  ?  Speak  that  man's  name  ;  I  will  have  it,  and  from 
your  lips.  But,  oh,  if  you  have  degraded  my  sister  with 
this  secret ;  if  you  have  blighted  her  innocence  with  a 
knowledge  of  your  guilt " 

"  Stop,"  she  broke  in ;  "  stop  !  do  not  speak  of  her." 

Even  in  that  moment  some  recollections  came  upon  her, 
and  her  face  fell  forward,  bowed  down  to  her  marble  bosom. 


FACE     TO      FACE.  393 

"  Elsie  knows  nothing,"  she  said  j  "  for  her  sake  spare 
me." 

"  If  you  wish  to  escape  having  your  shame  dragged 
"before  the  whole  world,  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  For  her  sake,  for  Elsie's,  have  .mercy  !  I  don't  expect 
it — but,  remember,  disgrace  to  me  reflects  not  only  on  you 
but  her  !  Think  of  that — don't  blight  her  whole  future  in 
crushing  me  ! " 

"  I  left  her  in  your  hands — she  has  been  living  in  daily 
intercourse  with  you — you  have  stained  her  lips  with  your 
kisses — degraded  her  by  your  affection." 

"  I  have  not  hurt  her,"  she  cried  j  "  I  tell  you  she  never 
received  harm  from  me." 

There  was  only  one  thought  in  her  mind,  to  preserve 
Elsie  from  his  anger — the  worst  had  come  to  her  now. 
Her  present  agony  was  too  great  for  dread — the  shame  of 
the  world — the  most  loathsome  prison — nothing  could  bring 
such  pangs  as  this  wrenching  away  of  hope  and  happiness. 

She  sat  upright  on  the  ground,  folding  her  hands  in  her 
lap.  Weaker  women  would  have  fainted,  perhaps  gone 
mad,  but  when  the  first  dizzy  whirl  had  left  her  senses,  she 
could  see  and  think  clearly. 

"  With  this  man  you  alone  buried  the  child.  Will  you 
own  it,  or  shall  I  charge  the  servants  as  your  accomplices — 
will  you  carry  oat  your  guilt  to  the  last,  and  let  others 
suffer  that  you  may  escape  ?  " 

"  'No,  no  !  I  do  not  struggle.  See,  I  do  not  defend  my 
self.  Let  it  fall  on  me !  But  no  murder,  do  not  charge  me 
with  murder.  Oh,  I  am  not  so  bad  as  that — I  could  not 
harm  one  of  God's  creatures." 

"  Is  not  your  sin  worse  than  murder  ?  Why,  the  black 
est  criminal  has  white  hands  compared  to  yours !  You 
whom  I  loved  and  trusted — you  have  dragged  a  man's  soul 
through  the  depths  of  your  sin." 

-"  I  have  not,  I  have  not ! "  she  broke  forth. 


39  i  FACE      TO      FACE. 

He  pointed  to  the  box — he  turned  hjg  finger  to  the  man 
who  stood  in  the  shadows,  shrouded  with  blackness,  like  the 
fiend  he  was.  What  could  she  say — how  could  she  deny 
with  that  evidence  at  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  have  mercy  !  "  she  groaned. 

"  Don't  take  his  name  on  your  lips — don't  curse  yourself 
more  deeply  by  a  prayer  !  " 

She  crouched  lower  on  the  ground,  her  wild  eyes  were 
raised  to  heaven,  but  there  was  no  help — no  aid. 

"  All  the  facts — I  will  hear  them  from  your  own  lips — 
speak." 

She  was  silent. 

"  I  know — I  have  been  on  your  track  for  days.  It  was 
not  enough  that  you  destroyed  my  life,  trampled  on  my 
honor,  but  you  must  choose  for  the  partner  of  your  guilt  the 
man  who  had  most  cruelly  wronged  me — the  one  foe  I  had 
on  earth." 

"  No,  no  !     I  never  saw  that  man — never !  " 

"Peace,  woman  !  I  tell  you  that  man  standing  yonder 
with  a  grin  of  Satan  on  his  lips,  is  William  Ford." 

She  did  cry  out  then — this  was  a  horror  of  which  she 
had  not  dreamed. 

"  I  never  knew  it ;  I  never  knew  it." 

"  And  you  love  this  wretch  ?  Through  him  you  shall 
suffer  1 " 

"  I  hate  him,  loathe  him  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  in  this  one 
thing  believe  me — I  never  knew  it  was  Ford.  The  name 
was  changed  to  deceive  me." 

"  I  would  not  believe  a  word  from  your  lips  though  you 
brought  an  angel  to  witness  it." 

Then  he  looked  down  at  the  little  coffin,  and  a  fierce  gust 
of  insanity  swept  over  him. 

"  I  will  send  for  some  officer  of  justice." 

She  caught  his  arm  and  held  him  firmly. 

"  For  Elsie's  sake — don't  overshadow  her  life  with  the 


BURIED      OUT      OF      SIGHT.  395 

shame  you  hurl  on  me.  Let  me  go  away — you  shall  never 
hear  of  me  again — I  will  never  cross  your  path  !  I  do  not 
ask  for  mercy,  but  for  your  sister's  sake,  for  your  own  hon 
ored  name,  let  me  go  away  and  die." 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

BURIED    OUT    OF    SIGHT. 

LOST  and  guilty  as  this  woman  was,  there  existed  still 
one  human  virtue  in  her  soul — even  in  his  rage  Mellen  could 
feel  that  she  spoke  the  truth — she  was  not  asking  mercy  for 
herself — she  was  pleading  for  the  innocent  girl  whose  future 
would  be  destined  were  it  known  how  vile  the  creature  was 
with  whom  she  had  been  the  associate. 

"  Where  will  you  go — what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"Anything — anything!  You  shall  never  hear  from  me 
again." 

"  You  are  going  with  this  man  ! " 

"  There  is  no  life  so  horrible  that  I  would  not  prefer  it  to 
his  presence,"  she  said ;  "  no  death  so  shameful  that  it 
would  not  be  heaven  compared  to  seeing  his  face  again." 

There  was  a  brief  pause  then ;  Mellen  grasped  her  by 
the  arm. 

She  thought  he  was  about  to  kill  her.  She  sank  on  her 
knees  and  a  broken  prayer  rose  to  her  lips.  She  would 
not  have  struggled ;  she  would  have  knelt  there  and 
received  death  patiently  from  his  hands. 

"Do  you  think  me  lost  and  vile  as  yourself?  "  he  cried, 
reading  her  thoughts  in  this  gesture.  "  I  do  not  want 
your  life — do  with  it  what  you  will !  For  my  innocent 
sister's  sake  I  will  spare  you — but  go — go  where  I  never 
can  hear  your  name — let  me  have  no  reason  to  know  that 


390  BURIED      OUT      OF      SIGHT. 

you  exist !  If  you  cross  my  path  again,  nothing  shall  keep 
me  from  exposing  you  to  the  whole  world." 

All  at  once,  North  came  out  from  the  shadows  that  had 
concealed  his  face,  and  stood  before  the  man  he  had  so 
foully  wronged. 

"  Grantley  Mellen,"  he  said,  "  for  your  own  sake,  believe 
me.  If  this  woman  will  not  speak,  I  am  not  coward 
enough  to  keep  silent." 

Elizabeth  stepped  forward,  her  head  raised,  her  eyes 
flashing. 

"  But  I  charge  you — North  or  Ford,  I  charge  you,  make 
no  defence  for  me.  At  your  hand,  neither  he  or  I,  will 
accept  it.  There  has  been  no  murder,  there  must  be  none. 
If  this  most  wronged  man  grants  us  the  mercy  of  silence, 
it  is  enough." 

"  But  I  am  not  brute  enough  to 3 

"  Peace,"  said  Elizabeth  ;  "  if  you  would  serve  me,  obey 
him." 

"  Obey  him,"  answered  North,  with  a  sneer.  "  I  would 
do  almost  anything.  Yes,  and  I  will  do  even  that ;  but  you 
are  the  only  woman  on  earth  for  whom  I  would  so  bend  and 
creep  to  this  man." 

These  words  stung  Mellen  like  vipers,  but  he  would  not 
allow  those  two  criminals  to  know  how  his  heart  writhed. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said  ;  "  there  is  more  to  be  done.  Go 
and  finish  your  work." 

North  took  up  the  spade. 

"  Remember,"   he  said,    "  It  is  for  her  sake." 

Elizabeth  made  an  effort  to  speak. 

"  Be  still,"   said  Mellen,   "  we  need  no  more  words." 

North  began  throwing  the  earth  back  into  the  trench, 
Elizabeth  sat  still  and  watched  him. 

It  soerned  to  her  that  she  did  not  suffer — there  was  noth 
ing  in  her  mind  save  the  blank  feeling  which  one  might  ex 
perience  sitting  over  the  ruin  an  earthquake  had  made,  after 


BURIED      OUT      OF      SIGHT.  397 

burying  home,  love,  everything  the  soul  clings  to.  North 
filled  the  chasm  and  smoothed  the  earth  down  over  it  care 
fully.  Then,  without  a  pause,  he  straightened  the  lid  of 
the  coffin — there  was  no  haste,  no  recoiling — he  drove  back 
the  nails  that  had  been  loosened,  into  their  place — then  he 
raised  the  box  in  his  arms,  saying,  only  : 

"Come!" 

Mellen  walked  forward,  Elizabeth  followed  a  little  behind 
—  she  did  not  ask  a  single  question,  but  moved  slowly 
down  the  avenue  towards  the  outer  gates.  They  passed 
through,  out  into  the  high  road,  up  the  little  hill,  Mellen. 
walking  sternly  on,  and  the  woman  following,  North  march 
ing  forward  with  long  strides,  bearing  the  coffin  on  his 
shoulder. 

They  reached  the  graveyard ;  the  fence  was  broken  in 
one  place;  Melleii  wrenched  off  the  picket  and  forced  a 
passage.  He  passed  through,  and  Elizabeth  mechanically 
kept  in  his  footsteps.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  yard  was  a 
single  grave,  with  the  earth  still  fresh  around  it  j  not  a  tuft 
of  grass  had  sprung  on  the  torn  soil,  but  dead  leaves  had 
drifted  over  it,  and  the  frost  crusted  it  drearily,  turning  its 
moisture  to  ice.  Elizabeth  might  have  recognised  this 
grave  as  one  that  had  been  given  to  a  fair  woman  who  had 
perished  in  the  late  shipwreck,  had  she  found  any  room  for 
thought  out  of  her  great  misery.  But  she  only  saw  a  dreary- 
looking  grave,  at  which  North  paused.  He  set  down  the 
coffin  and  again  raised  his  spade.  Elizabeth  stood  by, 
silently  turning  to  stone,  as  it  were.  She  watched  him  dig 
a  deep  cavity,  saw  him  lower  the  box  down  into  it,  then  he 
began  to  fill  up  the  gap. 

"  It  is  done,  your  sin  is  buried  ;  we  part,  and  forever,"  said 
Mellen. 

"  We  part  here  !  "  echoed  Elizabeth. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say,"  he  went  on  ;  "  if  you  can  live, 
do  so ;  but,  remember,  death  comes  at  last — death  and  the 


398  BURIED      OUT      OF      SIGHT. 

judgment.  I  think,  had  your  sin  been  other  than  it  is,  I 
could  have  promised  you  forgiveness  in  your  last  hour.  But 
the  horror  of  your  crime  in  choosing  that  man " 

"  I  never  knew  it,"  she  broke  in.  "  Oh,  believe  that — do 
believe  that !  I  ask  nothing  more — I  have  no  right  even  to 
ask  so  much — but  if  you  should  one  day  hear  that  I  am 
dead,  believe  that  I  have  now  told  you  the  truth." 

"  You  have  the  means  of  subsistence,"  he  went  on  ;  "  the 
stocks  I  settled  upon  you  will  be  sufficient  for  your  support. 
If  you  ever  see  this  wretch  again,  it  is  because  you  are 
altogether  bad." 

"  Only  say  that  when  I  am  dead  you  will  pardon  me— 
only  say  that,  Grantley  Mellen,  for  I  have  great  need  of  one 
kind  word." 

"  You  will  be  careful  that  your  name  never  reaches  my 
enr,"  he  went  on,  regardless  of  her  appeal.  "  Hide  your 
self  in  some  strange  land,  where  no  tidings  of  you  may  ever 
come  near  my  home.  I  warn  you,  for  your  own  sake." 

"Give  me  your  forgiveness  in  my  dying  hour;  only  that, 
Grantley,  for  I  have  loved  you  so  ! " 

"  I  will  not  promise  it.  This  mockery  is  worse  than  your 
sin  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  it  were  to  keep  your  soul  from 
eternal  torture,  I  could  not  speak  a  pardoning  word." 

She  fell  forward  upon  the  ground. 

"  Only  for  my  deathbed — your  pardon  for  my  death 
bed?" 

"  Never  !  Never  !  " 

His  voice  rang  out  clear  and  sharp,  as  steel  striking  steel. 
It  was  like  the  sound  of  prison  doors  shutting  out  the  last 
gleam  of  light  and  hope  from  a  condemned  criminal. 

"  Don't  be  found  here,"  he  said  ;  "nor  be  heard  of  again. 
We  are  parting  now  forever.  Take  the  shelter  of  my  roof 
for  the  rest  of  this  miserable  night.  I  will  not  send  you 
forth  in  darkness — go,  but  we  meet  no  more  ! " 

He  turned  and  walked  away ;  she  watched  him  threading 


BURIED      OUT     OF      SIGHT.  399 

his  path  among  the  graves,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  must  die 
when  her  eyes  lost  him. 

He  had  reached  the  palings,  he  was  passing  through. 
She  raised  herself,  her  last  expiring  energy  went  out  in  one 
agonized  appeal : 

"  Your  pardon — for  my  deathbed — Grant-ley — husband  ! n 

He  never  turned,  never  paused — perhaps  he  did  not  hear 
— but  walked  steadily  and  firmly  on. 

Elizabeth  looked  up  at  the  cold  sky ;  the  moon  was  par 
tially  hidden,  the  dawn  was  struggling  up  gray  and  chilled 
in  the  east,  the  wind  moaned  faintly  among  the  graves,  and 
rustled  her  garments  like  the  stirring  of  a  shroud  ;  there 
she  stood  among  the  graves  of  her  world,  as  utterly  helpless 
and  lost  as  if  eternity  swept  between  her  and  the  past,  and 
there  she  remained  during  some  minutes  that  lengthened  out 
like  years,  with  the  wind  moaning  around  her  and  dead 
leaves  crackling  under  her  feet.  She  could  see  her  old  home 
through  the  naked  trees,  with  the  dull  smoke  curling  in 
clouds  above  the  chimneys,  and  the  great  trees  sweeping 
their  naked  branches  over  it.  Oh,  how  her  heart  yearned 
towards  it,  how  wistfully  her  eyes  watched  all  those  signs  of 
her  forfeited  life  through  the  leafless  grove  and  the  drifting 
leaves  ! 

"  Can  I  help  you,  can  I  do  anything  ?  " 

Elizabeth  lifted  her  dreary  eyes.  It  was  North.  The 
desolation  of  that  poor  woman  smote  him  with  remorse,  his 
voice  trembled  with  human  pity. 

"  The  money — you  shall  have  part  of  that.'7 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head ;  she  had  no  strength  for  re 
sentment.  All  pride  was  crushed  within  her. 

"  Go,"  she  said,  "  leave  me  here  alone  ;  I  want  nothing." 

"  But  I  cannot  leave  you  so — I  will  not." 

Elizabeth  arose  and  stood  upright  among  the  graves. 

"  I  am  going  somewhere— this  way,  I  think.  One  cannot 
rest  here,  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a  wan  and  most 


400  THE      HUSBAND      RELENTS. 

pathetic  smile.  "  You  and  I  have  been  too  much  in  com 
pany — the  world  is  wide — oh,  misery,  misery,  how  wide — but 
you  can  go  that  way  and  I  the  other.  No  one  will  ask  for 
me." 

Was  the  woman  dropping  into  piteous  insanity  ? 

North  thought  so,  and  made  another  effort  to  arouse  her, 
but  she  only  entreated  him  to  go  away,  and  at  last  he  went ; 
afraid  that  the  daylight  would  find  him  there. 


CHAPTER    LXV. 

THE    HUSBAND    RELENTS. 

GRANTLEY  MEL-LEX  turned  back  to  the  miserable  gran 
deur  of  his  home.  The  proud  heart  ached  in  his  bosom. 
What  if,  from  fear  or  weakness,  Elizabeth  did  not  return  to 
the  house  ?  WThat  if  she  remained  there  among  the  cold 
graves,  or  wandered  off  in  terror  of  his  wrath  ? 

The  graveyard  was  full  half  a  mile  from  the  spot  where 
this  thought  struck  him.  He  turned  at  once  and  went 
back,  feeling  how  unmanly  it  was  to  leave  the  miserable 
creature  stricken  with  such  anguish,  alone  with  that  man. 
He  remembered  how  her  uncovered  head  had  drooped  under 
his  denunciations  in  the  moonlight,  that  the  cold  wind  had 
lifted  the  waves  of  her  hair  and  revealed  the  dead  marble 
of  a  face  in  which  all  hope  was  quenched.  Notwithstand 
ing  his  wrongs,  notwithstanding  the  ache  at  his  heart,  he 
would  go  back  and  take  her  home  for  that  one  night — only 
for  that  one  night. 

He  walked  rapidly  towards  the  graveyard,  more  eager 
now  to  find  Elizabeth  than  he  had  been  to  separate  from 
her  only  a  brief  time  before.  He  looked  to  the  right  and 
left  in  search  of  her,  but  the  moon  was  obscured  now  by 


THE   HUSBAND   RELENTS.        4Q1 

thin  gray  clouds,  and  a  fog  drifting  up  from  the  ocean  was 
fast  obliterating  the  crowd  of  golden  stars  that  had  been 
so  brilliant  when  he  went  forth. 

Mellen  walked  on,  growing  more  and  more  anxious,  till 
he  came  in  sight  of  the  graveyard,  then  he  paused  under  a 
clump  of  cedars  j  for  he  saw  his  unhappy  wife  forcing  her 
way,  in  desperate  haste,  through  the  broken  pickets  of  the 
fence,  with  her  face  turned  homewards.  The  gray  woollen 
shawl  was  floating  loosely  around  her,  giving  a  weird  ghost- 
liness  to  her  appearance. 

Mellen  turned  and  went  back,  sheltering  himself  under 
the  cedar  trees.  When  he  saw  that  she  was  safe,  a  revul 
sion  came  upon  his  feelings ;  a  sense  of  the  wrong  she  had 
done  him  returned  with  bitter  force,  and  when  she  passed 
along  the  outskirts  of  the  cedars,  making  her  way  down  the 
hill,  he  retreated  deeper  into  the  shadows,  recoiling  from 
contact  with  her. 

"  She  will  go  home,"  he  said,  gloomily,  "no  one  is  more 
familiar  with  the  paths  through  the  woods.  Thank  heaven 
she  does  not  know  that  I  am  weak  enough  to  care  for  her 
safety !  Let  her  reach  the  house  first,  we  shall  be  less 
likely  to  meet." 

With  these  thoughts  in  his  mind  he  lingered  in  the  cedars 
till  Elizabeth  was  out  of  sight.  The  wind  was  dying  away 
in  low  sobs  now,  smothered  down  by  the  fog,  through  which 
he  could  hear  the  moaning  of  the  ocean  afar  off. 

Mellen  left  the  woods,  and  made  the  best  of  his  way 
home,  believing  that  his  wife  had  already  found  a  shelter 
there. 

The  house  was  dark  and  still  as  the  grave  when  he  en 
tered  it  again.  Instinctively  he  trod  with  caution  along 
the  halls  and  crept  stealthily  upstairs,  for  in  the  depths  of 
his  heart  he  was  anxious  to  conceal  Elizabeth's  movements 
that  night  from  the  servants,  and,  above  all,  from  Elsie. 
He  paused  and  listened  a  moment  in  the  square  passage 


402  GONE. 

that  led  to  her  rooms,  hoping  to  hear  some  movement  by 
which  he  could  be  certain  that  she  had  reached  home  m 
safety.  But  there  was  no  sound,  and  he  turned  away  sigh 
ing,  for  compassion  and  the  tender  pity  which  every  gen 
erous  man  feels  for  a  fallen  woman  whom  he  has  once  loved, 
was  turning  the  bitterness  of  his  rage  into  intense  pain. 

Hearing    nothing,    and   with    vague    uncertainly  at   his 
heart,  the  unhappy  man  entered  his  own  dark  chamber 
threw  off  his  clothes  and  flung  himself  into  bed,  wretch, 
beyond  any  power  of  my  pen  to  describe. 

But  he  could  not  sleep,  could  not  even  rest,  the  very  eff< 
at  repose  drove  him  wild.  He  got  up  again,  dressed  him 
self  and  sat  down  by  the  open  window,  looking  out  into 
darkness.  All  at  once  he  started  and  leaned  far  out  of  the 
window.  Was  it  fancy,  or  had  some  wailing  voice  pro 
nounced  his  name  ?  Something  gray  and  weird  seemed 
floating  from  his  sight  through  the  gathering  fog.  At  first 
it  had  the  form  of  a  human  being,  then  it  seemed  as  if  a 
pair  of  wings  unfurled  and  swallowed  it  up.  Was  it  his 
wife?  Could  that  wingliko  envelopment  be  her  gray 
woollen  shawl,  tossed  by  the  wind?  Had  her  voice  been 
engulphed  in  the  far-off  moan  of  the  ocean?  In  this 
dreary  state  the  unhappy  and  most  wronged  man  remained 
all  the  rest  of  that  gloomy  night. 


CHAPTER  LXVT. 

GONE. 


THE  day  began  ;  the  sun  was  up ;  once  more  the  old 
house  awoke  to  life  and  activity. 

Sitting  in  his  chamber,  Grantley  Mellen  heard  the 
familiar  "sounds  below;  he  knew  that  life  must  sweep  on 


GONE.  403 

again,  that  he  must  rise  once  more  and  go  forth  among  his 
fellow-men,  hiding  his  misery  as  best  he  might,  taking  his 
place  in  the  world  and  bearing  the  secret  burden  of  his  dis 
honored  life.  He  went  to  the  window,  swept  back  the  cur 
tains  which  he  had  drawn  over  it,  and  looked  at  himself  in 
the  glass.  If  he  had  wished  to  know  how  his  corpse  would 
look  after  the  ravages  of  time  and  disease,  he  could  have 
learned  it  in  that  prolonged  gaze. 

It  was  absolutely  the  face  of  a  dead  man  ;  even  the  eyes 
looked  lifeless — there  was  only  a  heavy,  stony  expression, 
which  had  neither  spirit  or  humanity  in  it. 

Ifc  was  late  in  the  morning  when  Elsie  awoke  from  the 
heavy  slumber  which  had  succeeded  her  swoon.  For  a  few- 
moments  she  lay  still,  believing  that  the  events  of  the  past 
night  had  been  only  a  dream.  Suddenly  she  raised  herself 
with  a  cry  of  anguish — she  had  caught  sight  of  the  shawl 
which  Elizabeth  had  wrapped  about  her — she  knew  that  it 
was  all  real. 

She  sprang  out  of  bed,  opened  the  door,  ran  through  the 
empty  chamber  and  entered  her  sister's  room  : 

«  Elizabeth  !  Elizabeth  !  " 

There  was  no  answer.  She  looked  about — the  fire  had 
died  down  in  the  grate,  the  room  was  empty  and  desolate  as 
a  grave. 

She  hurried  through  into  the  sleeping  apartment,  calling 
still  in  a  voice  which  frightened  herself: 

"Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!'' 

The  bed-chamber  was  empty  too — the  bed  untouched. 

"  Gone  !  "  cried  the  wretched  girl.  "  Gone  !  Where  is 
she  ?  What  has  become  of  her  ?  Elizabeth,  Elizabeth  !  " 

She  shrieked  frightfully  in  her  anguish — cried  out  in  such 
terrible  anxiety,  that  the  sound  reached  the  chamber  where 
Grantley  Mellen  sat. 

He  went  out  into  the  hall  and  approached  the  door  of  the 
dressing-room.  Elsie  heard  him — her  first  impulse  was  to 
flee  but  her  limbs  refused  to  move. 


404  GONE. 

She  heard  him  try  the  door — heard  him  call : 

"  Elsie  !  Elsie  !  " 

She  must  meet  him — there  was  no  escape. 

Again  the  summons  was  repeated,  more  imperatively 
now. 

"  Elsie,  open  the  door — quick,  I  say  ! " 

She  got  to  the  door,  she  turned  the  key ;  her  brother 
entered  quickly,  and  stood  in  Elizabeth's  desolate  room. 

"  Where  is  Elizabeth  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  can't  find  her— 
I  want  Elizabeth." 

Mellen  felt  a  shiver  of  dread  pass  through  his  frame. 
He  pushed  the  chamber-door  open  and  looked  in,  pale  with 
anxiety.  She  was  not  there — the  bed  was  untouched,  and 
gleamed  upon  him  through  the  crimson  light  that  filled  the 
room,  like  a  crusted  snowbank.  There  was  none  of  that 
luxurious  confusion  which  usually  marks  the  apartment  of 
a  sleeping  lady.  The  rich  toilet  service  was  in  complete 
order.  There  was  no  jewelry  flung  down  with  half  sleepy 
indifference,  no  garments  laying  ready  for  use  on  the  chairs, 
or  across  the  sofa.  The  silken  window  curtains  were  drawn 
close.  The  carpet  looked  like  moss  in  the  deep  shadows  of 
an  autumnal  forest. 

"  Gone,  gone  !  Oh,  my  God,  what  has  become  of  her  ?  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"  Where — what  has  happened  ?  Is  she  dead  ?  Oh,  I 
shall  go  mad — I  shall  go  mad  now,"  cried  Elsie. 

She  fell  into  spasms,  but  still  preserved  her  senses  suffi- 
cientlj"  not  to  speak  again — she  dared  not  utter  a  word 
more,  lest  she  should  betray  her  knowledge  of  Elizabeth's 
sorrow. 

Mellen  carried  her  to  the  sofa  and  laid  her  down  upon  it, 
wrapped  shawls  and  eider  down  quilts  over  her,  holding  her 
hands,  which  trembled  like  frightened  birds,  striving  in 
every  way  to  soothe  her,  as  Elizabeth  had  so  often  done  in 
the  time  gone  by  for  ever. 


GONE.  405 

Flsie  lay  back  at  length,  quiet  but  utterly  exhausted. 

"  Where  is  Elizabeth  ?  "  she  moaned.  "  What  has  hap 
pened  ? '"' 

"  Never  take  that  name  on  your  lips  again,"  he  said ; 
"let  even  her  memory  be  dead  between  us.  That  woman 
is  no  longer  my  wife — you  will  never  see  her.  She  shall 
not  suffer;  I  will  deal  gently  with  her;  but  to  you,  my 
dearest  sister,  she  is  dead,  forever  and  ever." 

"  You  have  killed  her  !  "  shrieked  Elsie.  "  Elizabeth  ! 
Elizabeth  ! " 

"  She  leaves  this  house  of  her  free  will,  Elsie — the  only 
condition  I  have  made  is  that  she  takes  her  name  far  out 
of  our  lives.  Have  you  known — have  you  suspected  this 
woman,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  I  don't  know  anything  but  what  is  good  of 
her — I  don't  believe  anything  !  She  is  good  and  kind — 
send  for  her  !  You  shan't  drive  her  away — she  shall  come 
tome  now!  My  dear  Elizabeth — I  love  her!  You  shall 
not  do  this — you  are  mad,  mad  !  She  is  the  best  woman 
that  ever  lived !  Let  me  go  to  her — I  will  go  !  " 

She  was  writhing  again  in  hysterical  spasms,  but  Mellen 
forced  her  back  when  she  attempted  to  rise. 

"  Be  still,  Elsie — try  to  understand  me  !  I  can't  tell  you 
the  whole  story — but  we  are  parted.  Do  not  plead  for  her. 
Do  not  mention  her  name." 

"  But,  Grantley,  Grautley  !  " 

"No  more,  I  say — not  a  word." 

"She  is  innocent,"  moaned  the  girl ;  "  she  is  innocent." 

"  I  know  what  you  suffer — think  of  all  that  I  endure — 
let  that  give  you  strength." 

"  I  tell  you  she  is  an  angel — she  has  done  no  wrong  !  " 

"  I  had  the  confesssion  which  separates  us  from  her  own 
lips — I  tell  you  I  would  not  have  believed  any  other  testi 
mony.  Don't  struggle  so,  Elsie — lie  still." 

The  girl  fought  with   him  like  an  insane   creature — she 


406  GONE. 

had  no  self  control  or  reason — it  was  inability  to  speak 
which  kept  her  Prom  shrieking  out  in  Elizabeth's  defence. 
She  could  only  gasp  for  breath,  and  when  words  did  come, 
it  was  that  broken  cry  : 

"Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!" 

"  You  must  try  to  understand  me,  Elsie  !  You  are  all  I 
have  left  in  the  world — oh,  Elsie,  Elsie  !  She  has  gone  for 
ever,  and  I  loved  her  so — I  loved  her  so.  You  and  I  must 
live  on  as  best  we  can — it  is  only  for  you,  child,  that  I  live 
at  all." 

u  Only  bring  her  back — clear  it  all  up — the  truth — the 
truth  at  last !  Oh,  Grantley,  I " 

Her  words  were  so  indistinct  that  he  could  not  gather 
their  meaning  ;  she  was  struggling  more  fiercely  than  ever, 
and  it  required  all  his  strength  to  hold  her. 

"  If  you  love  me,  Elsie,  strive  to  be  calm  !  Oh,  think  of 
my  trouble,  my  anguish — my  sister,  my  sister !  " 

"  Only  send  for  her — call  her  here  !  " 

"Be  quiet  and  I  will  search,  but  she  went  off  last  night, 
I  do  not  know  where  !  " 

Elsie  gave  one  frightful  cry  and  sank  back  in  his  arms 
insensible  again.  Pier  swoon  was  so  deathlike  that  it 
seemed  as  if  life  had  gone  out  for  ever. 

Just  as  Elizabeth  had  raised  her  and  carried  her  into  her 
own  room,  so  did  Grantley  Mellen  carry  her  now,  stricken 
by  a  fear  so  horrible  that  his  past  agony  paled  under  it. 
What  if  she  were  dead — if  she  should  wake  a  raving 
maniac,  and  all  from  the  evil  influence  of  that  woman. 

He  called  no  assistance ;  he  watched  over  Elsie  in  that 
lonely  chamber,  trying  every  remedy  he  could  find,  but  for 
a  long  time  his  efforts  were  unavailing;  she  lay  there, 
white  and  cold,  as  if  the  snowy  counterpane  had  been  her 
winding  sheet. 

Just  as  he  was  calling  her  name  in  a  last  frenzied  burst 
of  grief,  Elsie  opened  her  eyes.  She  was  too  feeble  for 


GONE.  407 

speech,  but  she  remembered  everything  clearly,  and  made  a 
vain  effort  to  rise. 

"  You  must  not  talk,  Elsie  ;  don't  stir — you  will  hurt 
yourself!" 

He  searched  on  the  toilet  table,  found  a  bottle  of  lauda 
num,  and  administered  as  large  a  dose  as  he  dared  ;  he 
knew  that  the  effects  could  not  be  so  dangerous  as  her  pres 
ent  suffering. 

He  sat  down  by  the  bed,  folding  his  arms  about  her,  call 
ing  her  by  every  endearing  name  that  his  tenderness  and 
fear  could  suggest,  striving  to  soothe  her  into  slumber. 

Elsie  would  lie  quiet  for  a  few  moments,  then  begin  to 
struggle  and  cry  out,  till  it  seemed  to  Mellen  that  she 
would  die  before  the  opiate  could  take  effect. 

The  potion  worked  at  length  ;  she  lay  back  on  the  pillows 
white  and  still — her  eyes  stared  drearily  about  the  chamber 
once  more,  and  then  closed — she  had  fallen  into  a  heavy 
sleep. 

For  a  long  hour  Grantley  Mellen  remained  on  his  knees 
by  her  bedside,  where  he  had  fallen. 

He  rose  at  length.  Victoria  was  knocking  at  the  door, 
and  warning  her  young  mistress  that  breakfast  was  on  the 
table. 

Mellen  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it,  checked  the  girl's 
cry  of  astonishment  with  a  gesture,  and  said  : 

"  Miss  Elsie  is  very  ill — go  downstairs  at  once,  and  let 
there  be  no  noise  in  the  house." 

Vic  crept  away  in  frightened  silence;  Mellen  followed 
her  into  the  hall,  gave  orders  to  one  of  the  men  servants 
to  get  a  horse  ready,  went  into  the  library  and  wrote  a  dis 
patch  to  his  physician  in  the  city,  and  came  out  again. 

By  the  time  the  man  was  starting  off  to  the  station,  Clo- 
rinda  and  several  of  the  servants,  to  whom  Victoria  had 
communicated  her  tidings,  were  assembled  in  the  hall. 

In  consultation  they  forgot  their  awe  of  the  master,  and 


408  GONE. 

asked  a  thousand  eager  questions,  which  he  answered  with 
brief  sternness. 

"  Go  back  to  your  places,  all  of  you,"  he  said ;  "  Miss 
Elsie  is  asleep,  and  must  not  be  disturbed  till  the  doctor 
arrives." 

"  Is  missus  wid  her?  "  demanded  Clo. 

He  turned  upon  her  with  a  frown  which  made  her  spring 
back  as  if  she  had  received  an  electric  shock,  and  entirely 
checked  any  further  desire  to  question  him  where  his  wife 
was  concerned. 

He  turned  towards  the  stairs  again,  but  Dolf  interposed 
with  one  of  his  profound  bows. 

"  'Scuse  me,  sar,  but  de  brekfus  is  on  de  table." 

Self-restraint  must  be  kept  up ;  whatever  suspicions 
might  arise  when  the  fact  of  Elizabeth's  disappearance 
became  known  in  the  house,  this  proud  man  would  not 
expose  himself  to  the  curious  eyes  of  his  menials. 

He  went  into  the  breakfast-room,  drank  the  coffee  Dolf 
poured  out  with  a  skillful  hand,  pretended  to  eat  a  few  mor 
sels,  then  pushed  his  chair  back  and  hurried  up  to  Elsie's 
chamber — he  could  not  trust  himself  yet  in  the  presence 
of  his  servants. 

Below  stairs  all  sorts  of  stories  were  rife.  Victoria 
peeped  into  Elsie's  room  and  came  down  with  the  informa 
tion  that 

"  She  lay  dar  like  a  beautiful  corpus  !  " 

Everybody  groaned  in  concert,  but  she  added  new  aston 
ishment  by  saying  : 

"  And  missus  ain't  nowhars  about.  She  ain't  in  Miss 
Elsie's  room,  and  she  ain't  in  her  own,  and  her  bed  ain't 
been  touched  all  night." 

Clorinda  began  to  nod  her  turban  with  a  sapient  air. 

"  What  did  I  tell  yer  !  "  cried  she.  "  Now  what  did  I 
jist  tell  yer." 

"  But  whar  can  she  be  ?  "  wondered  Dolf.  "  What  do 
yer  s'pose  has  happened,  Miss  Cloriuda  ?  " 


GONE.  409 

"'"Nuff's  happened,"  returned  Clo,  "and  more'n  'miff! 
I  told  yer  de  tunderbust  would  break,  an  it  has." 

They  urged  and  entreated  her  to  speak ;  but  it  was  diffi 
cult  to  speak  when  she  literally  knew  nothing,  so  she  con 
tented  herself  with  going  about  her  work  with  unusual 
energy,  while  the  rest  stood  around  and  watched  her,  deem 
ing  this  an  occasion  when  idleness  was  to  be  taken  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course. 

Clo  nodded  her  head,  muttered  to  herself,  and  made 
dreadful  confusion  among  her  pots  and  pans,  exciting  her 
fellow-servants  to  a  fearful  pitch  by  her  air  of  mystery,  but 
not  a  word  would  she  speak  beyond  vague  and  appalling 
hints. 

While  the  servants  below  stairs  wore  away  the  morning 
in  vague  conversation  and  surmises,  growing  every  instant 
wilder  and  more  improbable,  Grantley  Mellen  sat  in  that 
darkened  chamber  watching  his  sleeping  sister. 

The  physician  arrived  late  in  the  evening  ;  by  that  time 
Elsie  was  awake,  and  he  looked  a  little  grave  while  giving 
his  medicines  and  examining  into  the  case. 

"  Keep  her  very  quiet,"  he  said  to  Mellen,  who  followed 
him  into  the  hall ;  "  it  is  a  severe  nervous  attack,  but  she 
can  endure  nothing  more.  Don't  let  her  get  up — I'll  come 
back  to-morrow.  Where  is  Mrs.  Mellen  ?  she  is  so  good  a 
nurse  I  should  like  to  give  her  my  directions." 

"  She — she  is  not  here,"  Mellen  answered. 

"  In  town,  I  suppose  ?  You  had  better  send  for  her,  or 
give  me  her  address  and  I  will  call  and  tell  her  how  much 
she  is  wanted  the  moment  I  reach  town.  To-night  I  stay 
in  the  village." 

"  Thank  you,  I  won't  trouble  you,"  replied  Mellen. 
"  You  will  be  here  to-morrow  morning?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  Don't  be  at  all  alarmed — Miss  Elsie  is 
subject  to  these  nervous  attacks.  So  I  shan't  call  on  your 
wife  ?  " 


410  UTTER      LONELINESS. 

"  Ko,  sir,  no  ;"  Mellen  answered,  impatiently.  "  I  must 
return  to  my  sister." 

He  bowed  the  doctor  downstairs  and  disappeared,  leaving 
the  son  of  Esculapius  to  go  on  with  some  rather  strange 
ideas  in  his  bead. 

He  had  another  patient  in  the  village,  and  so  drove  over 
there  in  the  carriage  which  had  brought  him  from  the 
station.  As  he  was  standing  on  the  hotel  porch  old  Jarvis 
Benson  came  up,  caught  him  by  the  button-hole  aiad  began 
a  long  story,  to  which  the  physician  listened  with  such 
patience  as  he  could  find. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

UTTER      LONELINESS. 

WHEN  Elizabeth  Mellen  quitted  the  graveyard,  she  was 
for  the  moment  insane.  Mellen  had  left  her  alone  with  the 
dead  and  the  man  she  had  so  hated.  He  had  forsaken  her 
there  in  that  cold,  desolate  night,  regardless  that  she  had 
once  been  his  wife,  scorning  to  remember  her  even  as  a 
woman.  This  thought  stung  her  proud  soul  through  all  its 
anguish.  She  would  not  return  home;  not  a  single  hour 
would  she  rest  under  the  roof  which  loomed  up  so  gray  and 
ghostly  behind  those  weird  trees.  But  where  could  she  go  ? 
in  all  the  headlands  that  spread  away  from  the  coast  there 
was  no  shelter  for  her.  Degraded,  broken-hearted,  aban 
doned  to  her  fate,  like  a  wild  animal,  she  stood  alone  among 
the  graves  of  those  who  had  been  happy  enough  to  die. 

This  terrible  blow,  long  as  it  had  been  dreaded,  came 
upon  the  poor  woman  suddenly  at  last.  At  the  bottom  of 
her  heart  there  had  been  all  the  while  a  desperate  hope  of 
escape.  But  it  was  over  now.  The  worst  had  come,  and 


UTTER      LONELINESS.  411 

that  was  almost  annihilation.  She  looked  up  to  the  sky. 
The  stars  were  all  out.  The  soft  gray  clouds  which  had 
floated  over  them  only  a  little  while  before  were  turning 
leaden  and  heavy,  so  heavy  that  the  ocean  was  one  mass  of 
blackness,  as  if  the  mighty  deep  had  veiled  itself  with 
mourning,  while  the  throes  of  a  coming  tempest  heaved  its 
inner  depths. 

The  man  North  had  left  her  at  last — she  was  utterly 
alone. 

Never  in  this  world  had  a  human  being  been  cast  forth 
to  such  utter  desolation.  She  looked  down  on  the  torn  earth 
at  her  feet,  and  her  poor  heart  ached  to  lie  down  with  that 
other  woman  who  had  found  her  rest  so  early,  and  was  at 
peace.  She  thought  of  her  with  strange  envy,  remember 
ing  that  the  ocean  had  cast  her  forth  when  it  moaned  and 
heaved  as  she  could  hear  it  now, — the  grand,  beneficent 
ocean,  that  could  give  death  to  a  poor  soul  pining  for  it  as 
she  did.  She  bent  her  head  and  listened  to  the  far-off 
voice  which  held  her  with  a  sort  of  fascination. 

"  I  will  go,"  she  said,  "  I  will  go.  It  calls  me — with  ten 
thousand  voices  it  calls  me." 

She  started  from  the  tombstone  against  which  she  had 
leaned,  and  swiftly  treading  a  passage  through  the  graves, 
forced  her  way  out  by  the  broken  pickets.  That  moment 
Mellen  stood  in  the  cedar  grove  and  saw  her  pass.  Had  he 
come  forth  all  might  have  been  well,  but  fierce  pride  rushed 
in  and  checked  the  noble  impulse  that  had  brought  him. 
back  so  far.  She  swept  swiftly  by  him  and  was  lost  in  the 
fog.  Some  strong  impulse  of  love  broke  up  through  the 
insane  fascination  which  drove  her  toward  the  ocean,  and 
in  spite  of  herself  she  drifted  homewards.  Once  a  break 
in  the  clouds  sent  down  wild  gleams  of  light,  throwing  up 
black  vistas  of  gloom  through  every  break  in  the  woods, 
and  revealing  dense,  gray  masses  of  vapor,  frowning  over 
the  waters.  Then  came  darkness  again,  and  she  wandered 
on. 


412  UTTER      LONELINESS. 

Without  knowing  how,  Elizabeth  found  herself  on  the 
lawn  before  her  old  home.  The  odor  of  dead  leaves  and 
late  autumn  blossoms  rose  up  from  the  soil,  and  enveloped 
her  with  sickening  remembrances.  All  at  once  the  woman 
recognised  the  place.  That  pile  with  its  gables  and  towers 
had  been  her  home  only  a  few  short  hours  before.  Why 
had  she  turned  that  way  ?  What  mocking  fiend  had 
driven  her  back  against  her  will  ?  The  thought  mad 
dened  her,  but  she  could  not  move.  The  passionate  love 
in  her  heart  anchored  those  weary  feet.  She  flung  up  her 
arms  towards  a  window  through  which  a  light  shone  dimly 
—the  window  of  his  room,  and  an  agonising  cry  of  farewell 
broke  from  Jier.  It  was  his  name  that  fled  from  her  lips 
like  a  burning  arrow,  and  reached  her  husband  in  the  gloomy 
stillness  of  his  chamber. 

The  window  opened.  She  tore  her  feet  from  the  earth 
and  fled.  Her  husband,  of  all  others,  should  not  know 
that  she  was  there,  prowling  about  the  home  from  which  he 
had  driven  her.  That  cry  of  agony  coming  from  her  lips 
frightened  back  her  pride. 

She  darted  away  across  the  flower-beds,  through  thickets 
and  over  the  lawn,  which  lay  moist  and  heavy  under  the 
fog.  Her  wet  feet  got  entangled  among  clusters  of  dead 
heliotrope  and  crysauthemums,  still  blooming  in  defiance 
of  storm  and  frost.  The  shawl  blew  loose  from  her  hands, 
which  unconsciously  huddled  it  close  to  her  bosom,  and  was 
torn  by  the  thorny  rosebushes.  Fragments  of  her  dress 
were  left  behind.  She  plunged  into  a  swampy  hollow 
where  clusters  of  tall  catstail,  sweet  flag  and  sedgy  rushes 
grew  around  a  little  pond,  swarming  with  trout  and  gold 
fish.  Her  feet  sank  into  the  marsh  till  the  water  gurgled 
over  her  gaiters.  She  stood  a  moment,  looking  out  upon 
the  black  pool,  tempted  to  throw  herself  in  ;  but  some 
water-rat  or  frog,  frightened  by  her  approach,  made  a  great 
leap,  and  plunged  into  the  black  depths,  giving  out  a  horri 
ble  idea  of  reptile  life. 


UTTER      LONELINESS.  413 

Not  there,  not  there  ;  no  one  should  find  her  after  she 
was  dead.  The  ocean,  the  great  heaving  ocean  had  called 
her ;  why  was  she  lingering  by  that  miserable  pool  of  hlack 
water,  full  of  living  things?  Again  she  plunged  forward, 
broke  through  the  tangled  sedges,  and  trampled  down  the 
spicy  peppermint,  till  she  reached  firm  land  again.  Then 
on — on — on  till  she  stood  under  the  beetling  cliff  which 
frowned  over  the  shore  tavern. 

It  was  the  dark  hour  now  which  comes  just  before  day 
light.  The  gleam  of  a  candle  shone  through  one  of  the 
tavern  windows,  and  this  faint  idea  of  warmth  drew  her 
that  way.  She  crept  up  close  to  the  building,  and  through 
the  little  panes  of  glass  saw  Benson  with  his  daughter  and 
her  children  at  breakfast  together. 

When  the  days  grew  short  it  had  always  been  the  old 
man's  habit  to  eat  his  breakfast  by  candlelight.  It  was  a 
pleasant,  homely  picture  that  the  wretched  woman  looked 
upon.  Her  haggard  eyes  grew  wild  at  the  sight  of  so  much 
warmth,  while  her  teeth  chattered  with  cold,  and  terrible 
chills  shook  her  from  head  to  foot.  A  noble  wood  fire 
blazed  on  the  hearth,  filling  the  small  white-washed  room 
with  its  golden  glow.  The  soft  steam  from  the  tea-kettle 
curled  up  the  chimney,  broiled  fish  and  hot  Indian  cakes 
sent  a  savory  odor  through  the  ill-fitted  sash. 

Elizabeth  had  eaten  nothing  for  the  past  two  days,  and 
with  the  sight  of  this  comfortable  breakfast,  an  aching 
desire  for  food  seized  on  her.  Food  and  warmth  ;  let  her 
have  them  and  she  was  ready  to  die.  This  animal  want 
drew  her  close  to  the  window.  A  child  at  the  table  saw 
that  white  face  with  its  wild  burning  eyes,  and  pointed  its 
finger,  uttering  frightened  shrieks. 

Elizabeth  darted  away,  crying  out  to  the  storm,  "  They 
will  not  have  me ;  even  his  menials  drive  me  forth." 

The  beach  was  not  far  off,  and  from  it  rose  a  sound  of 
lashing  waves,  hoarse  with  the  thunder  of  mustering  storms. 


414  PLANS      AND      LETTERS. 

Afar  off  the  moan  of  the  deep  had  sounded  like  an  entreaty, 
but  now  it  came  full  and  strong,  commanding  her  to 
approach.  She  obeyed  these  ocean  voices  like  a  little  child  ; 
her  powers  of  reasoning  were  gone ;  all  consciousness  of 
pain  or  danger  benumbed ;  everything  else  had  rejected 
her,  but  the  great  ocean  was  strong,  boundless.  With  one 
heave  of  its  mighty  bosom  it  would  sweep  her  away  forever. 
She  walked  steadily  on  to  the  beach,  forcing  her  way  to 
the  sands ;  through-  drifts  of  seaweed  and  slippery  stones, 
on,  on  she  walked,  slowly,  but  with  horrible  firmness,  through 
great  feathers  of  foam  that  curled  upon  the  sands  ;  on  and 
on  through  whirlwinds  of  spray,  till  a  great  wave  seized  her 
in  its  black  undertow  and  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

PLANS      AND     LETTERS. 

ALL  that  day  Elsie  remained  in  bed,  sleeping  a  good 
deal,  but  so  nervous  and  shaken  that  she  would  not  permit 
herself  to  be  left  alone  for  a  single  instant.  Her  brother's 
presence  seemed  to  fill  her  with  fear,  and  she  shrank  with 
a  strange  sort  of  timidity  from  every  tender  word  or  sooth 
ing  caress  ;  still  she  was  wretched  if  he  left  her  bedside,  and 
there  he  watched  the  long  day  through. 

Evening  came.  Mellen  was  compelled  to  go  through  the 
pretence  of  another  meal ;  indeed  he  forced  himself  to  eat, 
for  he  began  to  grow  angry  with  his  own  weakness. 

He  had  thought  when  the  first  struggle  was  over  to  feel 
only  an  icy,  implacable  resentment  against  the  woman  who 
had  wronged  him  ;  he  was  ashamed  of  the  tenderness  in 
his  own  nature  when  he  found  that,  stronger  than  his  rage, 
more  powerful  than  the  horror  with  which  he  regarded  her 


PLANS      AND      LETTERS.  415 

dishonor,  was  the  love  he  had  helieved  uprooted  suddenly 
from  his  heart,  as  a  strong  tree  is  torn  up  by  tornados. 

Yes,  he  regretted  her  !  It  was  not  only  that  his  life  must 
be  a  desolate  blank,  he  pined  for  her  presence.  But  for  his 
pride  he  would  have  rushed  out  in  search  of  her,  and  taken 
her  back  to  his  heart,  sweeping  aside  all  memory  of  her  sin. 

He  roused  himself  from  what  appeared  to  him  such 
degrading  weakness  by  one  thought — the  partner  in  her 
guilt  was  his  old  enemy ;  a  man  too  vile  for  vengeance, 
even. 

That  memory  brought  all  the  hardness  back  to  his  face, 
all  the  insane  passion  to  his  soul,  but  it  centered  on  the  man 
now. 

That  night,  in  the  woman's  very  presence,  he  could  not 
take  the  vengeance  that  he  meditated,  but  now  he  was  pre 
pared  to  force  her  from  the  villain's  grasp — on  to  repentance. 

Alone  in  his  library,  Grantley  Mellon  wrote  several  let 
ters  ;  it  was  impossible  to  tell  how  that  meeting  would  end, 
and  he  must  make  preparations  for  the  worst.  When  all 
was  done  he  rose  to  go  upstairs  again  ;  a  sudden  resolution 
made  him  pause.  He  sat  down  at  his  desk  once  more,  and 
wrote  these  lines  : 

"ELIZABETH — I  said  that  even  in  your  dying  hour,  I 
would  never  forgive  you  :  I  retract.  If  my  pardon  can  con 
sole  your  last  moments,  remember  that  it  is  yours.  1  have 
made  no  alteration  in  my  will;  if  you  can  accept  the  bene 
fits  which  may  accrue  to  you  by  my  death,  take  them  ;  but 
so  surely  as  you  ever  attempt  to  approach  the  innocent  girl 
who  has  been  so  long  endangered  by  your  companionship, 
my  curse  shall  follow  you,  even  from  the  grave  to  which  you 
will  have  consigned  me." 

He  put  the  note  in  an  envelope,  sealed  it  carefully,  and 
•addressed  it—"  To  Elizabeth." 


416  PLANS      AND      LETTERS. 

These  were  necessary  precautions.  The  man  who  had 
twice  wronged  him  possessed  the  fierce  courage  of  a  bravo. 
If  Elizabeth  was  found  with  him,  death  might  come  to  one 
of  them — even  if  that  followed,  the  woman  who  had  been 
his  wife  should  never  share  the  degrading  future  of  a  man 
too  vile  for  personal  vengeance.  In  mercy  to  her  he  would 
separate  them. 

He  found  Elsie  sitting  up  in  bed.  She  shrank  away 
among  the  pillows  when  he  entered ;  he  saw  the  movement, 
and  -  it  shook  his  heart  with  a  new  pang.  This  artful 
woman  had  drawn  the  spell  of  her  fascinations  as  closely 
about  that  pure  girl  as  she  had  enthralled  him.  Elsie 
shrank  from  the  brother  who  had  deprived  her  of  the  love 
on  which  she  had  leaned.  Elizabeth  had  left  him  nothing 
but  bitterness. 

"  Are  you  feeling  better  ?  "  he  asked,  sitting  down  by  the 
bed. 

"  Oh,  I  never  shall  be  any  better,"  she  murmured  ;  "  I 
shall  die,  and  then,  perhaps,  you  will  be  sorry." 

Mellen  could  not  be  angry  with  her ;  it  wounded  and 
stung  him  to  hear  her  speak  thus,  but  he  answered, 
patiently : 

"  When  you  are  able  to  reflect,  Elsie,  you  will  see  that  I 
could  not  have  acted  differently.  Few  men  would  have 
shown  as  much  leniency  as  I  have  done  ;  regardless  of  the 
consequences  to  themselves,  they  would  have  made  that 
woman's  conduct  public,  and  ruined  her  utterly." 

"  She  wasn't  bad,"  cried  Elsie  ;  "  you  are  crazy  to  think 
so.  She  was  the  best  woman  in  the  world." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  what  I  told  you  this  morning — 
what  I  was  forced  to  tell  you  or  submit  to  your  hatred  ? 
From  yon  window  you  could  look  out  on  the  spot  where  she 
had  buried " 

"  Be  still !  "  interrupted  Elsie,  with  a  shriek.  "  I  won't 
stay  in  the  house  if  you  go  on  so — be  still,  I  say !  " 

It  required  all  his  efforts  to  soothe  the  excited  girl.     He 


PLANS     AND     LETTERS.  417 

longed  to  question  her,  to  know  if  she  had  left  Elizabeth 
much  alone  during  his  absence,  to  understand  how  she 
could  have  been  so  persistently  deceived,  but  she  was  in  no 
state  to  endure  such  inquiries  then. 

Elsie  lay  back  among  her  pillows,  refusing  to  be  com 
forted  : 

"  If  you  want  to  cure  me  send  for  Bessie — my  dear, 
dear  Bessie  !  Search  for  her — send  the  people  out !  " 

"  Elsie,  she  has  gone  with  that  man  ;  I  cannot  follow  her 
there." 

"  No,  no ;  she  is  wandering  about  in  the  cold.  Go, 
search  for  her  !  " 

"  Anything  but  that,  Elsie — ask  anything  else  in  the 
world." 

"  1  don't  want  anything  else." 

"  As  soon  as  you  are  better  we  will  go  away  from  here/' 
he  continued ;  "  to  Europe,  if  you  like." 

"  But  how  will  she  live  ?  "  persisted  Elsie.  "  What  will 
become  of  her  ?  No  money — no  friends.  "  Oh,  Bessie, 
Bessie  ! " 

"  She  has  plenty  to  live  on,"  he  replied.  "  There  are 
stocks  enough  deposited  in  her  name  to  give  her  a  comfort 
able  income." 

"  But  they  are  gone,"  cried  Elsie.  Then,  remembering 
the  danger  of  that  avowal,  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Gone  ! "  he  repeated.  "  How  do  you  know  ?  Oh, 
Elsie,  do  you  know  more  than  you  own — do — " 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  she  screamed.  "  You  have  driven  Bessie 
away  and  now  you  want  to  kill  me  !  I  don't  know  about 
anything — you  know  I  don't.  Just  the  other  day  Bessie 
spoke  something  about  the  stocks;  I  thought  from  what  she 
said  that  you  had  taken  them  back  for  some  purpose." 

He  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  explanation,  but  the 
distress  and  fright  into  which  she  had  fallen  nearly  brought 
on  another  nervous  crisis.     Great  drops  of  perspiration  stood 
26 


418  PLANS      AND      LETTERS. 

on  her  forehead,  and  the  slender  fingers  he  held  worked  ner 
vously  in  his  grasp. 

"  Don't  talk  any  more,  dear  child/*'  he  said.  "  Try  to  go 
to  sleep  again." 

"  I  can't  sleep — I  never  shall  rest  again — never  !  I  feel 
so  wicked — I  hate  myself !  " 

"  Child,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

She  must  restrain  herself,  no  danger  must  come  near  her. 
Even  her  sorrow  for  Elizabeth,  her  stinging  remorse,  could 
not  make  her  unselfish  enough  to  run  any  personal  risk  of 
his  displeasure. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  mean — nothing  at  all  !  But  it 
drives  me  wild  to  think  of  Bessie.  Where  can  she  be — 
where  could  she  go  ?  Suppose  she  has  killed  herself ! 
Oh,  she  may  be  drowned  in  the  bay — drowned — drowned  !  " 

She  went  nearly  mad  with  the  ideas  which  her  fancy 
conjured  up,  but  it  was  perfectly  in  keeping  with  her  char 
acter  that  in  the  very  extremity  of  her  suffering,  no  word 
for  Elizabeth  should  be  spoken  that  would  implicate  her 
self.  Mellen  must  not  guess  at  her  knowledge  of  his  wife's 
fault 

"  You  will  have  her  searched  for,"  she  cried ;  "  promise 
me  that,  if  you  don't  want  to  kill  me  outright,  promise  me 
that." 

"  It  could  do  no  good,  Elsie,  none  whatever.  She  has 
chosen  her  own  destiny." 

"  It  might,  it  might !  If  she  has  no  money  what  will 
become  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  will  inquire  to-morrow,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  write  to 
my  agent.  If  she  has  disposed  of  the  stocks  I  will  see  that 
she  has  means  to  live  upon  j  I  promise  you  that." 

"  Eeally,  truly  ?  " 

"  Did  I  ever  break  my  word,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  but  you  are  so  hard  and  stern." 

"Never  with  you,  darling — never  with  you." 


PLANS      AND      LETTERS.  419 

Elsie  groaned  aloud,  but  hastened  to  speak: 

"  I  am  only  in  pain — don't  mind  it." 

"  My  poor  little  Elsie,  my  sister,  my  treasure  !  " 

"  Do  you  love  me  so  much,  Grant  ?  " 

"Better  than  ever;  you  are  all  I  have  now  !  Oh,  Elsie, 
don't  shut  your  heart  against  me,  I  can't  bear  that.  Try 
to  believe  that  I  have  acted  as  justly  as  a  man  could.  To  the 
whole  world  I  can  be  stern  and  silent,  but  let  me  tell  you 
the  truth.  I  loved  that  woman  so,  my  heart  is  breaking 
under  this  grief.  Bear  patiently  with  me,  child." 

"Oh,  if  you  suffer,  send  for  her  back,"  cried  Elsie. 
"Let  her  explain ;  you  gave  her  no  time " 

"  Hush,  hush !  Have  I  not  said  all  those  things  to  my 
self?" 

This  man's  pride  was  so  utterly  crushed  that  he  was 
revealing  the  inmost  secrets  of  his  soul  to  this  frail  girl, 
scarcely  caring  to  conceal  from  her  how  keenly  he  suffered. 

"  But  try,"  pleaded  Elsie  ;  "  only  try." 

"  It  is  impossible ;  later  you  will  see  that  as  plainly  as  I 
do.  Don't  you  see  what  a  sin  I  should  commit  in  taking  a 
false,  dishonored  woman  back  to  my  heart ;  what  a  wrong 
to  my  sister  in  exposing  her  to  the  society  of  a  creature  so 
lost  and  fallen  ?  " 

"  She  is  good  !  "  cried  Elsie.  "  Bessie  was  an  angel ! 
Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead — dead — dead !  I  can't  bear  this  ;  it 
is  too  much — too  much  ! " 

Elsie  wrung  her  hands  and  sobbed  piteously  ;  she  had 
wept  until  nature  exhausted  itself,  and  that  choked  anguish 
was  more  painful  to  witness  than  the  most  violent  outburst 
of  tears. 

"  We  loved  her  so,"  muttered  Mellen  ;  "  she  was  twined 
round  that  girl's  heart  as  she  enthralled  mine;  she  has 
broken  both." 

"  What  are  you  saying,  Grant  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  dear  ;  I  only  pitied  you  and  myself  for  loving 
her  so  much." 


420       ELSIE    PROMISES    TO     BE     FAITHLESS. 

"  I  will  always  love  her,"  cried  Elsie  ;  "  you  never  shall 
change  me ;  nothing  shall  do  that.  She  is  innocent ;  I 
believe  it  j  I  would  say  so  before  the  whole  world." 


CHAPTER  LX1X. 

ELSIE    PROMISES    TO    BE    FAITHLESS. 

MELLEN  was  seized  with  a  sudden  fear. 

"  Elsie,"  he  said,  "  if  anything  should  happen  to  me  ;  if 
I  should  die " 

She  caught  his  hands  and  began  to  tremble. 
r  "  What  do  you  mean  ?     Die— die  !  " 

"  Nothing,  dear ;  don't  be  frightened.  But  life  is  uncer 
tain  ;  what  I  mean  is  this — if  you  should  outlive  me  prom 
ise  never  to  seek  that  woman  \  never  to  let  her  come  near 
you." 

"  I  can't  promise  that ;  I  can't  be  so  wicked." 

"  You  must,  Elsie." 

"  I  can't ;  I  won't !  No,  no  j  I'll  never  be  bad  enough 
for  that ! " 

"  If  you  refuse  me  this,  Elsie,  you  will  sink  a  gulf  be 
tween  us  which  can  never  be  filled  up." 

**"  Don't  talk  so  ;  remember  how  sick  I  am." 

"  I  do ;  I  won't  agitate  you,  but  we  must  have  an  end  of 
this  subject.  If  I  should  die — " 

"  I  won't  hear  you  talk  about  dying,''*  she  broke  in. 
"You  frighten  me  ;  you'll  kill  me." 

But  he  went  on  resolutely  ; 

"  Promise  never  to  see  or  hear  from  her." 

"Not  that ;  it  is  too  wicked — too  horrible." 

"  Elsie,"  he  cried,  in  stern  passion,  "  promise,  or  I  will 
go  out  of  this  room,  and  though  we  live  together  it  shall  be 
as  strangers." 


ELSIE     PROMISES    TO     BE    FAITHLESS.       421 

He  rose  as  if  to  fulfil  his  threat ;  she  sprang  up  in  bed ; 
her  cowardice,  her  selfishness  mastered  every  other  feeling. 
"  I  promise.     Come  back,  Grant,  come  back  ;  oh,  do  !  " 
He  seated  himself  again,  soothed  and  caressed  her. 
"We  will  not  talk  any  more/'  he  said,  kindly.     "Hence 
forth  let  everything  connected  with    this    subject  be  dead 
between  us  ;  that  woman's  name  must  never  be  mentioned 
here;  her  very  memory  must  be  swept  out  of  the  dwelling 
she  has  dishonored.     You  and  I  will  bury  the  past,  Elsie, 
and  place  a  heavy  stone  over  the  tomb  ;  will  you  remember 
that,  child  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  anything!  Do  what  yon  please;  I  cannot 
struggle  any  longer  ;  it  is  not  my  fault." 

"  Indeed  no,  darling  !  You  are  tender  and  forgiving  as 
an  angel !  Oh,  Elsie,  in  all  the  world  yours  is  the  only  true 
heart  I  have  found." 

She  lay  there  and  allowed  him  to  speak  those  words  ;  she 
suffered  terribly  in  her  shallow,  cowardly  way,  but  she  could 
not  force  her  soul  to  be  courageous  even  then.  In  time  her 
volatile  nature  might  turn  determinedly  from  the  dark 
tragedy.  She  probably  would  convince  herself  that  she  was 
powerless  ;  that,  since  it  could  do  no  good  to  grieve  over 
Elizabeth  and  her  mournful  fate,  it  was  better  that  she 
should  dismiss  all  recollection  of  it  from  her  mind,  drown 
her  regrets,  enjoy  such  pleasures  as  presented  themselves, 
and  build  up  a  new  world  between  her  and  the  past. 

But  as  yet  she  could  not  do  that ;  she  was  completely  un 
nerved  and  incapable  of  any  resolution.  She  writhed  there 
in  pitiable  pain  and  caught  at  every  straw  for  comfort. 

"  You  won't  forget  your  promise,  Grant  ?  " 

"What,  dear?" 

"  To  send  money — that  she  may  live,  you  know." 

"  I  will  not  forget,  rest  satisfied.  I  will  attend  to  it  this 
very  day ;  don't  think  about  that  any  more." 

"  How  can  I  help  thinking  ?  You  might  as  well  tell  me 
not  to  breathe  ;  I  must  think  !  " 


422       ELSIE     PROMISES     TO     BE     FAITHLESS. 

"  The  end  lias  come  ;  it  can  do  no  good  to  look  back  !  " 

Almost  the  very  words  Elizabeth  had  so  many  times  re 
peated  during  those  last  terrible  days ;  the  recollection  went 
like  a  dagger  to  Elsie's  soul. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  could  be  restored  to  any 
thing  like  composure  ;  then  Mellen  forbade  her  to  talk,  fear 
ing  the  consequences  of  continued  excitement. 

"  You  can  sleep,  now,  darling ;  you  will  be  better  in  the 
morning." 

"  And  you  will  take  me  away  from  here,  Grant?" 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  whenever  you  like." 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  place — the  farther  the  better !  I 
cannot  stay  in  this  house — I  should  die  here.  But  not  to 
Europe — oh,  you  won't  take  me  to  Europe  ?  " 

He  only  thought  the  sudden  terror  in  her  voice  rose  from 
a  fear  of  the  voyage  or  some  similar  weakness. 

"  You  shall  choose,  Elsie ;  just  where  you  please.  We 
will  go  to  the  West  Indies — as  you  say,  the  farther  the 
better." 

"Yes,  Grant,  yes." 

"  Now  shut  your  eyes  and  go  to  sleep." 

"You  won't  leave  me,"  she  pleaded. 

"No  ;  I  shall  stay  near  you  all  night." 

"  It  is  so  dreadful,"  she  went  on,  glancing  wildly  about 
the  room  ;  "  I  should  go  mad  to  wake  up  and  find  myself 
alone." 

"  You  shall  not,  dear  ;  indeed  you  shall  not." 

She  grew  quiet  then  ;  after  a  little  time  he  heard  Vic 
toria  in  the  hall,  and  went  out  to  speak  with  her. 

"  You  will  lie  down  on  the  bed  in  the  room  next  Miss 
Elsie's,"  he  said,  "  and  be  near  her  if  she  wants  anything." 

He  had  not  forgotten  that  he  must  be  absent  in  the  night, 
and  was  careful  to  guard  the  cherished  girl  against  every 
possible  cause  of  fright  or  agitation. 

He  spent  the  evening  in  Elsie's  sick  chamber  as  he  had 


ELSIE    PROMISES    TO     BE     FAITHLESS.      423 

passed  the  day.  Elsie  did  not  sleep,  but  she  was  glad  to 
lie  quiet  and  keep  her  eyes  closed,  shutting  out  the  objects 
around  her.  Sometimes  when  her  reflections  became  too 
painful  to  bear,  she  would  start  up,  catch  his  hands  and 
shriek  his  name  wildly,  but  his  voice  always  served  to  calm 
her. 

Towards  midnight  she  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber.  More 
than  an  hour  before  he  heard  Victoria  enter  the  next  room, 
and  knew  that  he  could  leave  Elsie  in  safety. 

He  bent  over  the  bed,  kissed  her  white  forehead,  and  stole 
softly  out  of  the  room. 

He  went  down  into  the  library  and  sat  there  drearily, 
starting  at  the  least  sound,  almost  with  a  belief  that  he 
should  stand  face  to  face  once  more  with  his  wife  who  might 
yet  return  on  some  possible  pretence.  The  hours  passed, 
but  there  was  no  step  from  without,  no  sign  of  approach 
anywhere  about  the  house. 

He  went  to  the  window,  pushed  back  the  curtains  and 
looked  out — the  first  thing  he  saw  was  the  cypress  tree 
waving  its  branches  as  they  had  done  the  night  before 
when  their  moans  seemed  inarticulate  efforts  to  speak. 

The  moon  was  up  now,  streaming  down  with  a  broad, 
full  glory,  very  different  from  the  spectral  radiance  of  the 
previous  night.  How  vividly  recollection  of  those  fearful 
hours  oame  back  as  he  stood  there  !  He  lived  over  every 
pang,  felt  every  torture  redoubled — started  back  as  if  again 
looking  on  the  dead  object  which  had  shut  out  all  happi 
ness  from  him  for  ever. 

Suddenly  he  saw  the  figure  of  a  man,  that  man,  stealing 
across  the  lawn  ;  he  did  not  wait  to  reflect,  flung  open  the 
window  and  dashed  out  in  pursuit.  He  was  too  late — the 
intruder  disappeared,  and  though  he  made  a  long  and  dili 
gent  search  his  efforts  were  futile. 

He  returned  to  the  house,  livid  with  the  new  rage  which 
had  come  over  him. 


424  ALMOST      A      PROPOSAL. 

t(  I  will  find  him,"  he  muttered ;  "  there  is  no  spot  so 
distant,  no  place  so  secret,  that  my  vigilance  shall  not 
hunt  him  down  !  " 

So  the  night  passed,  and  when  the  dawn  again  struggled 
into  the  sky  Grantley  Mellen  returned  to  his  sister's  cham 
ber,  and  sat  down  to  watch  her  deep,  painful  slumber  once 
more. 

No  sleep  approached  his  eyelids — it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  must  not  hope  to  lose  consciousness  again — that  never 
even  for  an  instant  would  that  crushing  sorrow  and  that 
mad  craving  for  the  lost  woman  leave  him  at  rest. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

ALMOST     A     PROPOSAL. 

IN  the  basement  story  of  Piney  Cove,  the  absence  of  Mrs. 
Mellen  was  a  continued  source  of  curiosity.  But  for  once, 
that  part  of  the  household  had  little  but  conjecture  to  go 
upon ;  so  after  a  time,  curiosity  died  out  and  the  selfish 
element  rose  uppermost,  especially  with  the  mulatto,  Dolf, 
who  had  not  yet  found  out  the  sum  total  of  Clorinda's 
fortune. 

The  night  after  Mrs.  Melleu's  disappearance,  there  had 
been  an  anxious  meeting  in  the  neighborhood,  at  which 
Elder  Spotts  had  held  forth  with  peculiar  eloquence,  and 
Clorinda  had  been  wonderfully  loud  in  her  reponses,  a 
state  of  things  which  filled  Dolf  with  serious  perplexity ;  in 
fact,  it  had  been  a  very  anxious  meeting  to  him.  After 
their  return  home,  that  young  gentleman  lingered  in  the 
basement,  looking  so  miserable  that  Clorinda  asked  the 
cause. 

"  Yer   knows,"    said  Dolf,  prolonging   the  situation    as 


ALMOST     A     PROPOSAL.  425 

much  as  possible,  in  the  hope  that  some  bright  thought 
would  strike  him  by  which  the  conversation  might  be  led 
round  to  the  subject  uppermost  in  his  worldly  mind  ;  "  yer 
knows  very  well." 

"  Why,  yer's  making  me  out  jis'  a  witch." 

"  No,  Miss  Clorindy,  no  ;  don't  say  dem  keerless  tings — 
don't !  I  ain't  a  makin'  you  nothin',  only  de  most  charmin' 
and  de  most  cruel  of  yer  sect." 

If  Clo  did  not  blush  it  was  only  because  nature  had 
deprived  her  of  the  dangerous  privilege,  but  she  fell  into  a 
state  of  sweet  confusion  that  was  beautiful  to  behold. 

"  Bar  ye  go  agin,"  said  she ;  "  now  quit  a  callin'  me 
witches  and  sich,  or  else  say  why  ?  " 

"  Didn't  I  see  you  dis  berry  even'  ?  "  said  Dolf. 

"  In  course  ye  did ;  we  was  to  Mrs.  Hopkins'?,  when  de 
meeting  was  ober." 

"  And  wasn't  Elder  Spotts  dar,  too?  " 

"  In  course  he  was ;  yer  knows  it  well  enough." 

"  I  knows  it  too  well,"  said  Dolf.  "  Dar's  whar  de 
coquettations  comes  in  j  dat's  jis'  de  subjec'  I'm  'proachin' 
yer  wid." 

"  Me  !  "  cried  Clo,  in  delightful  innocence.  "  Laws,  I 
didn't  know  yer  even  looked  at  me  ;  I  tought  ye  was  fascin 
ated  wid  dat  Vic." 

"  I'se  neber  too  busy  to  reserve  you,  Miss  Clorindy,"  said 
Dolf ;  "  wherever  I  may  be,  whatever  my  ockipation,  I'se 
eyes  fur  you.  And  I  seed  you  ;  I  seed  de  elder  a  bending 
over  ye,  a  whisperin'  in  yer  ear." 

"  Oh,  git  out !  "  cried  Clo.     "  He  didn't  do  no  sich." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  did,  Miss  Clorindy ;  dese  eyes  seen  it." 

"  Wai,  he  was  a  axin'  me  if  I  was  gwine  to  come  to 
meetin3  more  regular  dan  I  had  ob  late." 

"  It  took  him  a  great  while  to  ax,"  said  Dolf,  in  a 
reproachful  voice. 

Clo  laughed  a  little  chuckling  laugh. 


426  ALMOST      A      PROPOSAL. 

"  He's  a  bery  pleasant  man,  de  elder,"  said  she ;  "  bery 
pleasant." 

"  Dey  say  he  wants  a  wife,"  observed  Dolf. 

"  Do  dey  !  Mebby  he  do ;  anyway  he  hain't  told  me 
dat." 

"  But  he  will,  Clorindy,  he  will ! " 

"  Tain't  no  ways  likety ;  don'  'spec  I  shall  knows  much 
bout  it ! » 

"  Oh,  yes,  yer  will,"  insisted  Dolf. 

He  was  serious,  and  Clo  began  to  grow  dizzy  at  the 
thought  of  so  many  conquests  crowding  upon  her  at  once. 

"  I  jis'  b'lieve  he's  a  sarpint  in  disguise,"  said  Dolf,  with 
great  energy  ;  "  one  ob  de  wust  kind  of  old  he  ones." 

"  Laws,  Mr.  Dolf,  don't  say  sich  things ;  he's  a  shinin' 
light  in  de  sanctumary,  I'se  certain." 

"  It's  a  light  I'd  like  to  squinch,"  cried  Dolf,  "  and  if  he 
pokes  himself  into  my  moonshine  I'll  do  it." 

Clo  gave  a  shrill  scream,  and  caught  his  arm,  as  if  she 
feared  that  he  was  intending  to  rush  forth  in  search  of  the 
elder,  and  put  his  menace  into  instant  execution. 

"  Don't  kick  up  a  muss  wid  him,"  she  pleaded :  "  why 
should  yer  ?  " 

"It  'pends  on  yer,  Miss  Clorindy,  yer  know;  de  'cour- 
agement  yer've  ben  a  givin'  him  is  'nuff  to  drive  yer 
admirers  out  o'  der  senses." 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  I  neber  heerd  sich  audacious  nonsense  !  " 
said  Clo. 

"  It's  true,"  answered  Dolf,  "  an'  yer  knows  it.  But 
ye're  received  in  dat  man,  Miss  Clorindy,  yer  is  !  He's  got 
both  eyes  fixed  on  de  glitterin'  dross.  I've  heerd  him  talk 
'bout  de  fortin  yer  had,  an'  how  it  wud  set  a  pusson  up,  an' 
what  good  he  might  do  wid  it  'rnong  de  heathen." 

Clo  gave  another  scream,  but  this  time  it  was  a  cry  of 
indignation  and  wrath. 

"  Spend  my  money  'mong  de  heathen  !  "  she  cried.     "  I'd 


ALMOST     A      PROPOSAL.  427 

like  to  see  him  do  it !  comes  'bout  me  I'll  pull  his  old  wool 
fur  him,  I  will." 

Dolf  smiled  at  the  success  of  his  falsehood,  and  made 
ready  to  clench  the  nail  after  driving  it  in. 

"  Dat's  what  he  tinks  anyhow.  Why,  Miss  Clorindy,  he 
was  a  tryin'  ter  find  out  jist  how  much  }^er  was  wuth." 

"'Taint  nobody's  business  but  my  own,"  cried  Clo, 
angrily,  "  folks  needn't  be  a  pumpin'  me  ;  'taint  no  use." 

"  Jis'  what  I've  allers  said,"  remarked  Dolf,  with  great 
earnestness ;  "  sich  secrets,  says  I,  is  Miss  Clorindy's  own." 

"  Yes,  dey  be,"  said  Clo,  holding  on  to  the  sides  of  her 
stool  as  tightly  as  if  it  had  been  the  box  which  contained 
her  treasures. 

"I've  said  sometimes,"  continued  Dolf,  "dat  if  de  day 
shud  eber  come  when  dat  parathon  ob  her  sex  made  up  her 
mind  ter  gib  her  loved  hand  to  some  true  bussom,  she'd 
probably  whisper  musical  in  his  ear  de  secret  she  has  kept 
from  all  de  wuld." 

Clo  was  divided  between  the  tenderness  awakened  by 
these  words  and  the  vigilance  with  which  she  always 
guarded  the  outposts  leading  to  her  cherished  secret. 

"  Ain't  dat  sense,  Miss  Clormdy  ?  "  demanded  Dolf,  get 
ting  impatient. 

"  I  hain't  said  it  warn't,"  she  replied. 

"  Dis  wuld  is  full  ob  mercenary  men,"  Dolf  went  on, 
"  searchin'  fur  de  filty  lucre  ;  I'se  glad  I  neber  was  one  ob 
dem.  I  allers  has  'spised  de  dross  ;  gib  me  lobe,  I  says, 
and  peace  wid  de  fair  one  ob  my  choice,  and  I  asks  no 
more." 

Clo  played  with  her  apron  string  again,  and  looked  mod 
estly  down. 

But  Dolf  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say  next  without 
committing  himself  more  deeply  than  he  desired  ;  indeed, 
he  had  been  led  on  now  considerably  farther  than  he  could 
wish,  but  that  was  unavoidable. 


428  ALMOST     A     PROPOSAL. 

"  Not  but  what  fortins  is  desirous,"  he  said,  "  'cause  in 
dis  wuld  people  must  lib." 

Clo  assented  gently  to  that  self-evident  proposition. 

"  Do  yer  know  what  I'se  often  tought,  Miss  Clorindy," 
said  Dolf,  starting  on  a  new  tack. 

"  'Spect  I  don't,"  said  Clo. 

"  I'se  wished  many  a  time,  more  lately'n  I  used  ter,  dat 
I  could  take  some  fair  cretur  I  lobed  ter  my  heart,  and  dat 
'tween  us  we  had  money  'nuff  ter  start  a  restauration  or 
sometin'  ob  dat  sort." 

Clo  sniffed  a  little. 

"  In  dein  places  de  wurk  all  comes  on  de  woman,"  said 
she. 

Dolf  was  quite  aware  of  that  fact ;  it  was  the  one  thing 
which  made  him  contemplate  the  idea  with  favor. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  he  said,  "  de  cookin's  a  trifle ;  tink  ob 
de  'counts  ;  my  head's  good  at  figures." 

"  Dey  kind  o'  puzzles  me,"  Clo  confided  to  him  softly. 

"  Tain't  'spected  in  the  fair  sect,"  said  Dolf;  "  dey  nebber 
ort  to  trouble  'emselves  Jbout  sich  matters." 

Then  Dolf  sighed. 

"  Yer  wonders  what's  de  matter,"  he  said ;  "  I  was  jis 
lamentin'  dat  I  hadn't  been  able  to  save  as  much  as  I  could 
wish,  so  dat  I  could  realise  sich  a  dream." 

"  Laws,"  cried  Clo,  so  agitated  and  confused  she  was 
about  to  speak  the  words  he  so  longed  to  hear  ;  "  how  much 
wud  it  take  ?  Does  yer  tink  dat  if  a  woman  had — " 

"  I  say  Clo,  where  be  yer  ?  " 

The  interruption  was  a  cruel  one  to  both  the  darkeys, 
though  from  different  reasons ;  the  voice  was  Victoria's. 

"  Clo!"  she  called  again,  in  considerable  wrath,  "jis'  you 
answer  now." 

Clo  sprang  up  in  high  indignation.  Dolf  mounted  a  couple 
of  steps  and  appeared  to  be  diligently  searching  for  some 
thing  in  a  closet. 


FUTILE      PLEADINGS.  429 

Victoria  opened  the  kitchen  door,  looked  out  and  tossed 
her  head  angrily  when  she  saw  the  pair. 

"  I  s'pose  I  might  a  split  my  throat  callin',  and  yer 
wouldn't  a  answered,'7  she  cried. 

"  I'se  'bout  my  business/'  said  Clo,  grimly,  "  jis'  mind 
yours." 

"  I  s'pose  Mr.  Dolf  am  'bout  his  business  too,"  retorted 
Vic. 

Dolf  turned  around  from  the  closet  and  asked  sweetly, 
"  Did  you  'dress  me,  Miss  Vic  ?  " 

"No,  I  didn't,  and  don't  mean  ter.  But  Miss  Elsie's 
woke  up,  and  wants  some  jelly  and  a  bird ;  where  am  dey, 
Clo?" 

"  Look  whar  dey  be  and  ye'll  find  'em,"  replied  Clo. 

"  Ef  they  hain't  gone  down  dat  ol'  preacher's  throat  it's 
lucky,"  cried  Vic,  slamming  the  door  after  her,  thus  defeat 
ing  poor  Dolf  in  the  very  moment  of  success. 


CHAPTER  LXXT. 

FUTILE     PLEADINGS. 

ELSIE  was  better  that  morning.  When  the  physician 
arrived  he  pronounced  her  much  improved,  and  confessed 
to  Mellen  that  he  had  at  first  feared  an  attack  upon  the 
brain,  but  he  believed  now  it  was  only  the  result  of  a  severe 
nervous  paroxysm.  This  time  he  made  no  inquiries  of 
Mellen  concerning  his  wife  ;  the  manner  in  which  they 
had  been  received  on  the  previous  day  did  not  invite  a 
renewal  of  the  subject. 

Elsie  was  eager  to  get  up,  after  her  usual  habit,  the 
moment  she  began  to  feel  better ;  but  the  doctor  ordered 
her  to  lie  in  bed,  at  least  for  that  day. 


430  FUTILE      PLEADINGS. 

"But  I  want  to  get  up  so  badly,"  said  she  ;  when  her 
brother  returned  to  the  chamber ;  "  I  ain  so  tired  of  lying 
here." 

"  Just  have  patience  for  to-day ;  the  doctor  would  not 
allow  the  least  exertion." 

"He's  a  cross  old  thing!"  pouted  Elsie,  with  a  faint 
return  to  her  old  manner,  which  made  Mellen  both  sigh 
and  smile. 

"  You  will  soon  be  able  to  put  him  at  defiance.  But, 
indeed,  you  are  so  weak  now  you  could  not  attempt  too 
much." 

"  Oh,  that's  nonsense !  I  don't  believe  anything  about 
it.  You  shall  stay  here  with  me ;  if  I  have  to  be  kept 
prisoner  I  will  hold  you  fast,  too." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  my  attempting  to  leave  the  room," 
he  replied. 

Elsie  felt  much  improved.  She  sat  up  in  bed,  made  her 
brother  play  at  various  games  of  cards  with  her,  talked 
and  looked  herself  again. 

But  into  the  conversation,  in  which  Mellen  did  his  best 
to  hold  a  share,  there  crept  some  chance  mention  of  that 
name  which  those  walls  must  no  longer  hear.  It  fell  from 
Elsie's  lips  thoughtlessly,  and  at  once  dispelled  her  faint 
attempt  at  cheerfulness,  throwing  her  into  the  gloom  which 
she  had  succeeded  in  shutting  out  for  a  little  time. 

"  Did  you  write  that  letter,  Grant  ?  "  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  Yes  ;  I  sent  it  down  to  the  village,  to  go  by  the  morn 
ing's  mail." 

"  Thank  you,  Grant,  thank  you  !  " 

She  attempted  to  console  herself  with  thinking  she  had 
done  something  in  Elizabeth's  behalf,  but  when  her  con 
science  compared  it  with  all  that  she  ought  to  have  done, 
her  coward  heart  shrank  back  at  the  contrast. 

"  I  am  tired  of  cards,"  she  said,  sweeping  the  bits  of 
pasteboard  off  the  bod  with  one  of  her  abrupt  movements, 


FUTILE     PLEADINGS.  431 

which  would  have  been  rude  in  another,  but  seemed  grace 
ful  and  childish  in  her.  "  Cards  are  stupid  things  at  the 
best ! » 

Mellen  patiently  collected  the  scattered  pack  and  laid  it 
away,  trying  to  think  of  some  other  means  of  relieving  her 
ennui. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  don't  believe  I  could  listen,"  she  said,  tossing  her 
head  wearily  about.  "  I  don't  know — just  try." 

There  was  a  pile  of  new  novels  and  magazines  on  the 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  for  Elsie  always  kept  her 
self  liberally  supplied  with  these  sources  of  distraction, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  she  generally  carried 
the  recreation  to  an  extreme,  reading  her  romance  to  the 
exclusion  of  more  solid  studies,  just  as  she  preferred  nib 
bling  bon-bons,  to  eating  substantial  food. 

"There  certainly  is  opportunity  for  a  choice,"  Mellen 
said,  glancing  at  the  pile.  "  What  book  will  you  choose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  bring  a  magazine  ;  read  me  some  short  story." 

Mellen  seated  himself,  opened  the  periodical  and  commenced 
reading  the  first  tale  he  lighted  upon.  It  was  a  story  by  a 
popular  author,  beginning  in  a  light,  pleasant  way,  and 
promising  the  amusement  his  listener  needed.  But  as  the 
little  romance  went  on  it  deepened  into  a  pathetic  tragedy. 
It  was  an  account  of  a  noble-born  Sicilian  woman  who,  dur 
ing  the  Revolution,  endured,  silently,  every  species  of  suffer 
ing,  at  last  death  itself,  rather  than  betray  her  husband  to 
his  enemies,  yet  the  husband  had  bitterly  wronged  her  and 
half-broken  her  heart  during  their  married  life. 

Elsie  did  not  listen  at  first,  but  as  the  story  went  on  her 
thoughts  became  so  painful  that  she  tried  to  fasten  her 
attention  upon  the  reading.  When  she  began  to  take 
notice  Mellen  was  just  in  the  midst  of  the  account  of  this 
Sicilian  woman's  martyrdom  in  prison,  bearing  up  with  such 
serene  patience,  faithful  to  her  vow,  firm  in  her  determina 
tion  to  save  the  man  who  had  injured  her. 


432  FUTILE     PLEADINGS. 

Elsie  fairly  snatched  the  volume  from  his  hand. 

"  Don't  read  it ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  made  you 
choose  such  a  doleful  thing;  it  makes  my  flesh  creep." 

He  saw  the  change  which  had  come  over  her  face,  and 
reproached  himself  for  his  carelessness  in  having  chosen  so 
sad  a  tale  ;  but  the  truth  was,  in  his  absorption,  he  had  not 
the  slightest  idea  of  what  he  was  reading,  his  voice  sounded 
in  his  own  ears  mechanical,  and  as  if  it  belonged  to  some 
other  person. 

He  went  to  the  table  to  make  a  more  fortunate  selection. 

"  Here  is  a  volume  of  parodies,"  he  said ,  ''  shall  I  try 
those  ?  " 

"  Anything  ;  I  don't  care." 

He  commenced  a  mischievous  travestie  of  a  poem,  but 
though  it  was  wittily  done,  its  lightness  jarred  so  terribly 
on  both  reader  and  listener  that  it  was  speedity  thrown 
aside.  For  some  time  they  remained  in  gloomy  silence, 
then  Elsie  began  to  moan  and  move  restlessly  about,  then 
Mellen  tried  to  rouse  himself  and  be  cheerful  again. 

The  afternoon  passed  very  much  in  the  same  way.  At 
last  Elsie  declared  that  she  would  sleep  awhile. 

"  Anything  to  wear  away  the  time  !  "  she  said. 

Mellen  wondered  if  he  should  ever  find  anything  that 
would  shorten  the  hours  to  him,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

"  I  have  such  an  odd,  horrible  feeling,"  said  Elsie  ;  "just 
as  if  I  were  waiting  anxiously  for  something — every  instant 
expecting  it." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  nervous." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said,  fretfully. 

He  was  waiting.  Henceforth  life  would  be  but  one  long 
waiting  just  for  revenge,  then  to  be  free  from  the  dull  pres 
sure  of  this  existence. 

''  How  white  you  are  !  "  Elsie  said  suddenly.  *'  I  don't 
believe  you  have  slept  at  all." 

It  was  true.  For  nights  Mellen  had  not  closed  his  eyes, 
but  he  felt  no  approach  towards  drowsiness  even  now. 


FUTILE      PLEADINGS.  433 

"  You  will  fall  sick ! "  cried  Elsie.     «  What  shall  I  do 
then  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  afraid  ;  I  am  well  and  strong." 
He  said  the  words  with  a  loathing  bitterness  of  his  own 
ability  to  endure. 

The  more  powerful  his  physical  organization,  the  more 
years  of  loneliness  and  pain  would  be  left  for  him  to  bear. 
His  mind  flew  on  to  the  future  ;  he  pictured  the  long,  long 
course  towards  old  age;  the  dreary  lapse  of  time  which 
would  bring  only  a  cold  exterior  over  his  sufferings,  like  a 
crust  of  lava  hardening  above  the  volcanic  fires  beneath. 

Don't  sit  so,  looking  at  nothing,"  cried  Elsie. 
"  Yes,  dear.     There,  do  you  think  you  can  go  to  sleep  ?  " 
"I  won't  try,  unless  you  go  to  sleep  too.     Draw  the  sofa 
up  by  the  bed  and  lie  down." 

He  obeyed   her  command,  willing   to  gratify  her   least 
caprice.     She  gave  him  one  of  her  pillows,  threw  a  part  of 
the  counterpane  over  him,  and  made  him  lie  there,  holding 
fast  to  his  hand,  afraid  to  be  alone,  even  in  her  dreams. 
Do  you  feel  sleepy,  Grant  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  pause. 
Perhaps  so  j  I  am  resting,  at  all  events." 
"  Don't  you  remember  when  I  was  sick  once,  years  ago,  I 
never  would  sleep  unless  I  held  your  hand  ?  " 
"  Yes,  dear." 

How  far  back  the  time  looked— he  had  been  a  mere 
youth  then— what  a  fearful  waste  lay  between  that  season 
and  the  present ! 

Suddenly  Elsie  started  up  again. 
"  You  sent  the  letter,  Grant  ?  " 
"  Yes,  yes  j  be  content." 

She  was  so  much  afraid  even  to  sleep,  that  it  relieved  her 
to  turn  her  last  waking  thoughts  upon  some  little  good  she 
was  doing  Elizabeth. 

"  Good-night,  now,"  she  said  ;  «  I  can  go  to  sleep.     Kiss 
my  hand,  Grant.     You  love  me,  don't  you  ?  " 
27 


434  TOM      FULLER      RETURNS. 

"Always,  darling,  always;  nothing  can  part  you  and 
me." 

She  fell  away  into  a  tranquil  slumber,  and  Mellen  lay  for 
a  long  time  watching  her  repose ;  it  was  a  brief  season  of 
peace  to  her,  for  burning  thoughts  had  not  followed  her  into 
her  dreams. 

The  extreme  quiet,  the  sight  of  her  placid  face  soothed 
him  imperceptibly.  A  dreary  weakness  began  to  make 
itself  felt  after  that  long  continued  excitement.  At  length 
the  lids  drooped  over  his  eyes,  and  he  slept  almost  as  pro 
foundly  as  Elsie  herself.  For  a  long  time  there  was  no 
sound  in  the  chamber ;  the  brother  and  sister  lay  slumber 
ing  while  the  day  wore  on  and  the  twilight  crept  slowly 
around. 

When  Elsie  awoke  it  was  to  rouse  him  with  the  cry 
which  had  been  so  often  on  her  lips  during  the  previous 
day — 

"  Bessie,  Bessie  !  " 

He  started  up,  spoke  to  her,  and  his  voice  brought  her 
back  to  the  reality. 

"  I  was  so  happy,"  she  moaned ;  "  I  dreamed  that  Bessie 
and  I  were  gathering  pond  lilies — she  was  wreathing  them 
about  my  head — then  just  as  I  woke  I  saw  a  snake  sting  her 
— before  that  it  was  all  bright.  Oh,  dear,  if  I  could  only 
sleep  forever ! " 


CHAPTER   LXXII. 

TOM    FULLER    RETURNS. 


THE  next  day  Elsie  was  still  stronger  and  better.  She 
consented  to  lie  in  bed  all  the  morning,  making  it  a  condi 
tion  that  she  might  get  up  and  be  carried  downstairs  to  pass 
the  evening. 


TOM    FULLP:R    RETURNS.  435 

"  That  is  the  dreariest  time,'7  she  said  ;  "  it  drags  on  so 
heavily." 

Mellen  promised  her,  and  she  was  childishly  happy. 

"  You  shall  have  an  early  dinner,  Grant,  and  then  we'll 
take  tea  in  the  evening,  and  eat  toast  and  jam  just  as  we 
did  when  I  was  a  child." 

"  Yes,  that  will  be  very  comfortable." 

He  had  tried  to  say  pleasant,  but  he  could  not  speak  the 
word.  The  day  was  so  warm  and  bright  that  a  little  after 
noon  he  took  her  out  for  a  short  drive,  then  she  lay  down  to 
rest  again,  resolved  to  be  strong  and  pass  the  evening  be 
low.  The  change  was  pleasant  to  her — she  felt  quite  elated, 
as  she  always  was  in  health,  at  the  idea  of  amusement. 

They  got  through  the  day  rather  quietly,  and  Elsie  did 
not  have  a  single  relapse  of  her  nervous  tremors. 

When  she  awoke  from  her  afternoon  nap  it  was  growing 
dark.  She  cried  out  quite  joyfully  when  she  saw  Grantley 
sitting  by  the  bed  : 

"  It  is  almost  evening  at  last !  " 

At  that  moment  Victoria  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  Mellen  said  ;  "  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

Victoria  entered  on  tiptoe,  though  she  knew  plainly 
enough  that  her  young  mistress  was  awake,  and  whispered 
in  the  doleful  semitone  she  reserved  for  sick  rooms  : 

"  If  you  please,  Mister  Fuller's  just  arriv,  and  he's  a  ask 
ing  after  all  of  you  in  a  breath." 

Elsie  started  up  on  her  pillows,  and  the  brother  and  sister 
looked  at  each  other  in  blank  dismay  when  they  thought  of 
the  blow  that  must  be  inflicted  upon  the  warm,  honest  heart 
of  Elizabeth's  cousin. 

"  Go  and  say  that  we  will  be  down,"  said  Elsie,  recover 
ing  her  presence  of  mind. 

Victoria  departed,  and  Grantley  cried  out  passionately : 
"  How  can  I  tell  him  ?     Poor  Tom,  he  will  nearly  die." 
"  You  must  not  tell  him  yet,"  said  Elsie,  "  not  one  word 
— iust  say  Bessie  is  absent." 


436  TOM      FULLER      RETURNS. 

"  Such  prevarication  is  useless,  Elsie,  he  must  know  the 
truth." 

Elsie  began  to  cry. 

"  There,  you  are  contradicting  me  already.  I  won't  go 
down — I  shall  be  sick  again — my  head  swims  now." 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  dear,  don't." 

"  Then  let  me  have  my  own  way,"  she  pleaded. 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?     Anything  to  content  you." 

"  That's  a  good  brother,"  said  Elsie.  "  Go  down  and 
merely  tell  Tom  I  have  been  very  sick,  and  that  Bessie  has 
gone  to  New  York — anywhere — not  a  word  more." 

"  But  he  will  wonder  at  her  absence  during  your  illness." 

"  No,  he  never  wonders  ;  it  doesn't  make  any  difference." 

"  I  detest  these  white  lies,  Elsie." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  want  to  kill  me  with  a  scene,  go  and 
tell  Tom,"  she  exclaimed,  throwing  herself  back  on  her 
pillows  ;  "  I  shall  be  worried  to  death  at  last." 

Mellen  was  anxious  to  soothe  her,  and  against  his  judg 
ment  submitted. 

"I'll  go,  darling;  I'll  go." 

"  Good  Grant ;  kind  brother  !  Send  Victoria  to  me  ;  I 
will  be  all  dressed  when  you  come  back." 

Mellen  went  out  and  called  the  servant,  then  he  passed 
downstairs,  and  in  the  hall  met  Tom,  who  rushed  towards 
him,  exclaiming : 

"  The  woman  says  Elsie  is  very  sick ;  is  she  better  j 
what  is  it  ?  " 

"  She  is  much  better ;  don't  be  frightened ;  she  will  be 
downstairs  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Thank  God,"  muttered  Tom,  his  face  still  white  with 
fears  that  Victoria  had  aroused. 

Mellen  was  too  much  preoccupied  to  notice  his  extreme 
agitation,  or  speculate  upon  its  cause  if  he  had  observed  it. 

"  I  only  got  back  this  afternoon,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I 
hurried  over  here  at  once.  How  is  Bessie  ?  " 


TOM      FULLER      RETURNS.  437 

"She—she  is  not  at  home,"  faltered  Mellen. 
"  Not  at  home  and  Elsie  sick  ?  " 

"  She  was  gone,"  said  Mellen,  «  and  I  did  not  send  for 
her." 

Tom  was  too  much  troubled  about  Elsie  to  reflect  long 
upon  anything  else,  and  directly  Mellen  broke  from  his 
eager  questions,  saying  : 

"  Go  into  the  library,  Tom  ;  I'll  bring  Elsie  down." 
He  went  upstairs,  and  knocked  at  his  sister's  door. 
"  You  may  come  in,"  Elsie  called  out,-  "  I  am  ready." 
When   he  entered  she  was  sitting  up  in   an  easy  chair, 
wrapped  in  a  pretty  dressing-gown  of  pink  merino,  braided 
and  trimmed  after  her  own  fanciful  ideas,  a  white  shawl 
thrown  over  her  shoulders,    the   flossy    hair    shading  her 
face,  and  looking  altogether  quite  another  creature. 

For  the  first  time  since  Elizabeth's  departure,  a  feeling  of 
relief  loosened  the  oppression  on  Mellen's  heart. 

"  You  look  so  well  again  ;  God  bless  you,  darling  !  " 
"Of  course   I'm  pretty  !  "  she  cried  childishly,  pointing 
to  herself  in  tip  -glass.     «  I  shall  jnake  a  nice  little  visitor." 
"  You  will  always  be  one,  my  s'unbeam,"  he  said. 
She  shivered  a  little  at  his  words,  but  she  would  not  per 
mit   herself'to    think,    determined    to   have   her   old  care 
lessness,  her  old  peace  back,  if  she  could  grasp  it. 
"  How  is  Tom  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  Dreadfully  anxious  about  you,  poor  fellow." 
"  Did  he  ask  for  Bessie  ?  " 
«  Yes— yes." 

"  But  you  said  nothing  ?  " 
"  No,  Elsie  ;  he  knows  nothing." 

"  That  is  right,"  she  said;  "I  can  tell  him  better  than 
you.     Be  kind  to  him,  Grant." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  he  saved  your  life ;  Tom  is  very  dear  to  me  : 
poor  fellow." 

"I  am  to  be  a  visitor,  remember,"  she  said  childishly- 
"  You  must  not  forget  that." 


438  TOM      FULLER      RETURNS. 

"  I  will  forget  nothing  that  can  give  you  pleasure,  be 
certain  of  that,"  he  answered,  kindly. 

"Now  you  shall  lead  me  downstairs,"  she  said. 

"  You  must  not  walk  ;  I  will  carry  you." 

"No,  no  ;  I  am  so  heavy." 

But  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  downstairs, 
as  he  had  so  often  done  in  her  childhood,  while  Victoria 
followed  with  cushions  and  shawls  to  make  her  perfectly 
comfortable. 

"  I  am  your  baby  again,  Grant !  Don't  you  remember 
how  you  used  to  carry  me  about  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do ;  you  are  not  much  larger  now." 

"You  saucy  thing  !  I  would  pull  your  hair  only  I  am 
afraid  you  would  let  me  fall." 

He  carried  her  into  the  library  and  laid  her  on  the  sofa. 
Tom  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  of  terror  at  the  change  his 
absence  had  made  in  her  appearance,  but  a  gesture  from 
Mellen  warned  him  that  he  must  control  his  feelings  lest  his 
anxiety  should  agitate  her. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Tom,  so  very  glad,"  she  said, 
clasping  her  delicate  fingers  about  his  hands,  and  so  filling 
him  with  delight  by  her  look  and  words  that  he  could  not 
even  remember  to  be  anxious. 

"  It  has  seemed  an  age  to  me  since  I  went  away,"  said 
Tom.  "And  you  have  been  sick,  little  princess,  and  Bessie 
gone  !  that  is  strange." 

"  There,  there,"  cried  Elsie ;  "  you  must  not  talk  about 
my  appearance  or  sickness  or  anything  else  !  Just  tell  me 
how  pretty  I  look,  and  do  nothing  but  amuse  me." 

"  You  seem  like  an  angel  of  light,"  cried  Tom,  looking 
wistfully  at  her  little  hand,  as  if  he  longed  to  hide  it  away 
in  his  broad  palm. 

The  fire  burned  cheerfully  in  the  grate,  the  chandeliers 
were  lighted,  the  tea-table  spread,  and  everything  done  to 
make  the  room  pleasant  which  could  suggest  itself  to  Dolf 
and  Victoria,  in  their  anxiety  to  please  the  young  favorite. 


A    FEAST     AND     A     LOVE     FEAST.  439 

"It  is  so  pleasant,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief;  "so 
pleasant." 

Then  Victoria  brought  her  a  quantity  of  flowers  Dolf 
had  cut  in  the  greenhouse,  and  she  strewed  the  fragrant 
blossoms  over  her  dress  and  wreathed  them  in  her  hair, 
making  a  beautiful  picture  of  herself  in  her  rich  wrappings 
and  delicate  loveliness. 

"Now  we  will  have  tea/'  she  said,  "bring all  sorts  of  nice 
things,  Victy." 

"  Yes,  'deed.  I  will,  Miss !  Clo  she's  ben  a  fixin'  fur 
yer !  Laws,  it  jis'  makes  my  heart  jump  to  see  you  up 
agin." 

As  the  girl  left  the  room  Mellen  said  : 

"  How  she  loves  you  !     Everybody  does  love  you,  Elsie." 

"  They  must,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  should  die  if  I  were  not 
petted.  Oh,  Grant,  it's  so  nice  here  ;  don't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  you  make  the  old  room  bright  again." 

Her  spirits  had  risen,  she  was  really  quite  like  her  old 
self,  and  that  without  effort  or  pretence. 

Then  the  tea  was  brought  in,  and  she  insisted  on  at  least 
tasting  everything  on  the  table.  Clo  was  well  acquainted 
with  her  dainty  ways,  and  the  varieties  of  preserves  and 
jellies  she  had  brought  out  from  her  stores  was  marvellous. 

Elsie  fed  Tom  with  bits  of  toast,  made  him  eat  every 
thing  he  did  not  want,  and  beg  for  all  that  he  did,  and  was 
so  bright  and  peaceful  that  Mellen  himself  grew  quiet  from 
her  influence. 


CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

A   FEAST    AND   A   LOVE    FEAST. 

WHILE  the  evening  was  passing  so  pleasantly  with  Elsie, 
the  principal  personages  below  stairs  were  holding  a  subdued 
revel  in  the  housekeeper's  room. 


440  A     FEAST     AND     A     LOVE      FEAST. 

Miss  Dinah  had  come  up  from  the  village,  and  her  ebony 
suitor  was  expected.  With  that  and  their  delight  at  Miss 
Elsie's  improvement,  the  whole  staff  was  in  excellent  spirits. 

"  It's  one  ob  dem  'casions,"  said  Dolf,  "  when  we  ort  ter 
do  somethin'  a  little  out  ob  de  common  run — what  do  yer 
say,  Miss  Clorindy  ?  " 

Clo  smiled  affably ;  certain  explanations  had  passed  be 
tween  her  and  Dolf  on  the  previous  day,  which  made  her 
inclined  to  consider  any  proposal  of  his  with  high  favor. 

She  summoned  her  unfortunate  drudge  Sally,  and  ordered 
her  to  set  the  table  at  once. 

"And  don't  spend  yer  time  a  gaupin'  at  Miss  Dinah's 
new  dress,"  said  she,  severely;  " 'taint  manners,  nohow." 

The  truth  was  Sally  had  not  observed  the  gown,  but  its 
bright  crimson  had  struck  Clorinda's  fancy,  and  being 
tempted  to  stare  at  it  enviously  herself,  she  concluded  the 
girl  must  be  doing  the  same  thing. 

"Jis'  obsarve  what  Miss  Cleric  dy  tells  yer,"  remarked 
Dolf,  "and  yer'll  be  on  the  road  ter  'provement;  Sally,  yer 
couldn't  hab  a  more  reficient  guide." 

Clo  bridled  and  grew  radiant ;  she  cast  a  glance  of 
triumph  at  Dinah,  and  only  regretted  that  Victoria  had 
not  yet  come  downstairs  to  hear  these  benign  words. 

"  I  'speet  Othello  won't  get  here  till  late,"  said  Dinah, 
beginning  to  fear  that  the  good  things  would  all  have  dis 
appeared  before  his  arrival.  "  Der's  some  meeting  at  de 
hotel,  and  he'll  be  kept  dar — de  gemmen  tinks  nobody  else 
can  wait  on  em." 

"He  desarves  deir  'preciation,"  said  Dolf,  loftily,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  so  supremely  great  that  he  could  well 
afford  to  allow  ordinary  people  to  claim  their  little  virtues 
unchallenged. 

"  Wai,"  said  Clo,  "  arter  all  it  needs  trabbel  and  the 
world  to  develop  a  man  proper." 

"  Jis'  so,  Miss  Clorindy  ;  yer's  allers  rezact." 


A  FEAST  AND  A  LOVE   FEAST.     441 

He  gave  her  a  very  tender  glance,  and  Clo  giggled  in  de 
lightful  confusion. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Othello  mustn't  lose  his  share  of 
'freshment,"  pursued  Dolf,  anxious  to  secure  as  many  extra 
meals  as  possible.  "  Miss  Clo,  will  you  permit  me  to  make 
a  proposition  ?  " 

"  I'll  feel  it  an  honor,"  said  Clo. 

"Yer  does  me  proud,"  returned  Dolf  with  a  profound 
bow,  while  Dinah  sat  quite  aghast  at  their  stateliness  and 
high  breeding,  and  Sally  began  to  think  Clo  must  speak 
Spanish  as  well  as  Dolf. 

"  I  moves  we  has  our  tea  now,"  said  Dolf;  "  it's  a  sort  of 
delercate  compliment  to  Miss  Elsie  to  eat  when  she  does, 
and  later  in  de  ebenin'  arter  Mr.  Othello  comes  we  might 
make  a  brile  ob  dat  chicken  in  de  closet — marster  don't  eat 
Dothin',  and  I'se  afeared  it'll  be  wasted." 

Clo  was  complaisance  itself,  and  went  to  work  while  Dolf 
encouraged  her  with  his  smiles. 

By  the  time  Victoria  came  downstairs  the  table  was 
spread  sumptuousl}T,  and  in  order  to  carry  out  Dolf's  extra 
ordinary  idea  of  complimenting  Miss  Elsie,  there  were 
sweetmeats  and  cakes,  hot  muffins,  cold  tongue,  and  stores 
of  eatables  that  brought  the  water  into  Dolf  s  crafty  mouth. 

The  meal  began  in  greatest  harmony,  Miss  Dinah  was 
very  affable,  Vic  really  was  the  best-natured  creature  in  the 
world,  and  just  now  she  was  perfectly  happy  from  seeing 
her  beloved  young  mistress  better ;  Dolf  was  so  circum 
spect  in  his  conduct  that  Clo  was  kept  in  the  state  of  high 
goodhumor  befitting  the  glory  of  her  new  turban,  and  the 
first  brightness  of  the  change  which  had  come  upon  her 
prospects. 

The  truth  was,  the  day  before,  while  she  was  peeling 
onions,  Dolf  grew  desperate,  and  was  led  on  to  that  point 
beyond  which  there  was  no  turning  back.  Clo  had  grown 
tender  and  confidential — he  learned  the  amount  of  her  for- 


442  A     FEAST     AND     A     LOVE      FEAST. 

tune — five  hundred  hard  dollars  in  the  bank.  After  this 
the  happiness  of  that  sable  pair  was  supreme.  For  the  mo 
ment  she  really  looked  beautiful  in  his  eyes,  and  with  tears 
in  their  depths — the  result  of  affection,  not  of  the  onions  he 
assured  her — he  implored  her  to  make  him  the  happiest  of 
men.  He  performed  his  part  in  the  most  grandiloquent 
style,  dropping  on  one  knee  as  he  had  seen  lovers  do  from 
the  upper  loft  of  the  Bowery  Theatre,  and  holding  her 
hands  fast,  one  of  which  grasped  a  knife  and  the  other  an 
onion. 

Before  they  were  disturbed  matters  were  completely  set 
tled,  though  Dolf  pleaded  for  the  engagement  being  kept 
secret  a  little  while. 

"  I  jis'  want  to  see  what  dat  ole  parson  ?11  say,"  he 
averred,  though  the  truth  was,  Dolf  had  been  so  indis 
creet  in  his  protestations  to  Victoria  that  he  was  a  little 
fearful  of  consequences  if  that  high-spirited  damsel  learned 
the  news  without  a  little  preparation. 

"  Nebber  you  mind  de  parson,"  said  Clo ;  "  laws,  I 
wouldn't  wipe  my  ole  shoes  on  him,  'sides  it  ed  be  something 
wuth  while  jis'  to  denounce  our  connubiolity  to  de  hull  com 
pany  dis  ebeiiing." 

But  Dolf  flattered  and  persuaded  until  she  consented  to 
comply  with  his  wishes. 

Victoria  had  been  so  much  occupied  above  stairs  that  she 
found  no  opportunity  for  observation,  otherwise  Dolf's  man 
ner  and  the  mysterious  air  of  importance  which  Clo  assumed, 
would  have  warned  her  that  something  extraordinary  had 
happened. 

Clo  made  Sally  wait  on  her  more  than  ever,  boxed  the 
girl's  ears  for  her  own  mistakes,  tried  on  new  turbans,  sur 
veyed  herself  in  the  glass,  and  fluttered  from  room  to  room 
in  the  highest  state  of  feminine  triumph.  Dolf  tried  his 
best  to  be  happy,  but  it  required  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
money  lying  in  that  bank  to  make  him  at  all  comfortable. 
He  kept  repeating  to  himself: 


A     FEAST     AND     A     LOVE     FEAST.  443 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  !  One  —  two  —  three  —  four  — 
five ! " 

Then  he  would  remember  Victoria's  youth  and  golden 
beauty,  his  own  delicious  freedom,  and  groan  heavily.  But 
he  was  sure  to  bring  up  his  spirits  again  by  muttering, 
vigorously : 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  !  One  —  two  —  three  —  four  — 
five  I " 

But  it  was  a  season  of  holiday  delight  to  Clorinda.  The 
highest  aspiration  of  her  spinster  soul  was  soon  to  be  grati 
fied — she  would  have  a  husband !  No  long  engagement  for 
her  ;  she  made  up  her  mind  to  that  on  the  moment.  With 
that  yellow  bird  once  in  the  cage,  she  was  not  going  to  lose 
time  in  closing  the  door — not  she  ! 

She  fed  her  intended  to  repletion  with  dainties,  and  it 
spoke  marvels  for  his  digestion  that  after  all  the  dinner  he 
had  eaten  he  could  make  such  havoc  among  the  cake  and 
preserves,  still  looking  complacently  forward  to  the  prospect 
of  broiled  chicken.  Crisp  crullers  disappeared  like  frost 
work  in  his  nimble  jaws,  he  laid  in  a  very  unnecessary  stock 
of  tongue  considering  his  natural  advantages  that  way, 
made  a  dismal  cavern  of  an  immense  fruitcake,  and  softened 
the  effect  with  a  whole  mould  of  apricot  jelly. 

Dinah  and  Vic  certainly  kept  him  in  countenance,  but 
Clorinda  rather  trifled  with  the  sweets,  drinking  so  much 
strong  tea  in  her  pleasurable  agitation,  that  to  an  observer 
given  to  ludicrous  ideas,  her  jetty  face  would  have  suggest 
ed  the  idea  of  an  old  fashioned  black  teapot,  with  her  pug 
nose  for  the  chubby  spout.  Sally  witnessed  this  dashing 
festival  from  behind  the  door,  scraped  up  the  jelly  left  in  the 
glasses,  stole  bits  of  toast  and  muffins  on  their  road  to  the 
table,  and  solaced  her  appetite  on  various  fragments,  till  at 
last,  growing  bold  and  getting  hungry,  she  crept  to  the 
pantry  and  purloined  half  a  pumpkin  pie.  Until  it  had  dis 
appeared,  like  a  train  down  a  tunnel,  she  never  remembered 


444  THAT      MONET      IN      THE      BANK. 

that  Clo  was  sure  to  miss  it  in  the  morning,  but  reflected,  in 
her  fright,  that  it  was  possible  to  shut  the  cat  up  in  the 
closet  at  bedtime,  and  so  escape  detection. 

After  tea  Dolf  brought  out  a  pack  of  cards — a  pack  which 
had  mysteriously  disappeared  from  the  library  table  some 
time  before — and  inducted  the  ladies  into  the  mysteries  of 
sundry  little  games,  winning  their  pennies  easily  and  cheat 
ing  them  without  the  slightest  compunction. 

That  was  a  point  beyond  Clo,  she  could  not  lose  her  money 
even  to  Dolf,  and  vowed  from  that  time  out  she  would  only 
play  for  pins. 

"  Gambliu's  wicked,"  she  said,  virtuously. 

So  they  played  for  pins,  and  Dolf  allowed  her  to  be  the 
gainer.  When  she  lost,  Clo  gave  crooked  ones  in  payment, 
and  thus  her  high  spirits  were  preserved  untarnished. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

THAT  MONEY  IN  THE  BANK. 

AT  last  Othello  arrived  and  made  the  circle  complete.  A 
great,  shiny  creature,  uglier  than  a  mortal  easily  can  be,  at 
whom  Miss  Dinah  cast  admiring  glances,  and  did  the  fas 
cinating  in  a  way  which  Clo  copied  on  the  instant. 

Dolf  reminded  her  of  the  chicken,  and  proposed  making 
a  bowl  of  flip  while  she  cooked  the  fowl,  an  idea  which  re 
ceived  unanimous  approval. 

They  were  gathered  about  the  supper-table,  Dolf  was 
carver,  and  managed  to  secure  an  unfair  portion  of  the  deli 
cate  bits,  proposing  all  sorts  of  trifles  to  suit  Othello's  palate, 
and  then  devouring  them  before  the  unfortunate  creature 
could  get  more  than  a  look  at  the  dainties. 

Othello  was  giving  an  account  of  his  labors  during  the 


THAT   MONEY   IN   THE   BANK.     445 

evening,  and  from  his  story  it  was  quite  evident  that  he  had 
been  the  most  important  personage  in  the  assembly,  and 
Dinah  shone  like  a  bronze  Venus  with  the  triumph  in  his 
success. 

"  Oh,  laws  !  "  said  he,  suddenly  ;  "  I  quite  forgot !" 
"  What,  what  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Why,  what  Mr.  Moseby  said.  'Spec  it  don't  consarn  no 
body  here  ;  only,  as  Miss  Clorindy's  a  lady  of  property,  she 
naterally  feels  interested  in  what  happens  to  oder  folks  wid 
forties." 

Clo  bridled,  and  Dolf  said  majestically,  feeling  that  he 
had  already  a  share  in  her  wealth  : 

"  In  course,  in  course ;  perceed,  Mr.  Othello." 
"  Wai,  yer  see  the  gemmen  was  talkin'  'bout  de  banks — I 
didn't  hear  de  beginning,  'cause  dat  boy,  Pete  Hopkins,  let 
de  punch  glasses  fall,  and  I  was  a  fixin'  him." 

"  Did  it  break  'em  ?  "  cried  Dinah,  feeling  an  interest  in 
the  details  not  shared  by  the  others. 

"  Only  two.  I  gave  him  six  cracks  for  each — the  little 
limb ! " 

"  Wai,  'bout  de  bank,"  said  Dolf,  impatiently. 

"  Yes,  dat's  what   I'm    gwine   to  tell.     Mr.  Moseby,  he 

said — you  know  him — dat  tall  man " 

"  Laws,  we  know  him  well  'nuff,"  said  Vic.  "  Go  on  if 
you're  gwine  to." 

Dinah  looked  reproachfully  at  her,  and  Othello  con 
tinued  : 

"  Mr.  Moseby — he  said  de  Trader's  Bank  had  bio  wed  all 
to  smash — clean  up." 

A  scream  from  Clorinda  brought  them  all  to  their  feet. 
"  Massy  sakes,"  cried  Vic  ;  "  what  is  it  ?  " 
"  Have  yer  got  fits  ?  "  demanded  Dinah. 
"  Bring  de  peppermint,"  suggested  Othello. 
"  Miss  Clorindy,  dear  Miss  Clorindy,  what  am  it  ?  n  cried 
Dolf,  with  a  sudden  sinking  at  his  heart. 


446  THAT      MONEY      IN      THE      BANK. 

Clo  would  have  had  hysterics,  but  not  being  a  fine  lady, 
she  gave  two  or  three  yells,  kicked  the  table,  pulled  her 
frizzed  hair,  and  shouted,  amid  her  tears : 

"  You  Sally,  git  niy  bunnit — quick  !  " 

She  rose,  and  they  crowded  about  her. 

"  Whar  be  you  gwine  ?     What's  up  ?  " 

"  Git  my  buunit !  "  she  repeated.  "  Ise  gwine  to  York, 
I  is." 

"  To  York,  this  time  o'  night?  "  cried  Vic. 

"  Yes,  I  is— let  me  go." 

Dolf  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Only  'splaiu,  Clorindy,  'splain  !  " 

"  Ise  gwine  to  git  at  dern  rascals.  I  want  my  money — 
I'll  have  it!  Marster  shall  git  it.  Oh  de  villin  scamps- 
esses  !  I  want  my  money." 

Dolf  dropped  speechless  in  a  chair,  while  the  rest  poured 
out  floods  of  questions,  which  Clorinda  was  in  no  state  to 
answer. 

"  Was  yer  money  in  dat  bank  ?  " 

"  Ise  gwiue  to  York ;  get  my  bunnit !  " 

They  fairly  shook  her,  the  general  curiosity  was  so  great. 

"  Why  don't  yer  speak  ?  "  said  Vic.  "  Was  yer  money 
in  de  bank  ?  " 

"  Yis  ;  ebery  red  cent.  Oh  !  oh  !  Five  hundred  dollars 
—and  it's  a— all  g— gone  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  I'll  hev  it !  I'll 
hev  it !  Call  marster  !  Git  my  bunnit.  Oh  !  oh  ! " 

They  made  her  sit  down,  they  explained  to  her  that  noth 
ing  could  be  done  until  the  next  day,  and  finally  she  sub 
sided  into  silent  tears.  All  this  while  Dolf  sat  without 
offering  one  word  of  consolation  ;  now  he  said  : 

"  Mebby  dar's  some  mistake,  Othello." 

"  No,  dar  ain't,"  persisted  Othello.  "  Mr.  Moseby's  lost 
ten  thousand  dollars ;  he'd  orter  know.  De  bank's  gone  to 
smash,  clar  nuff." 

Clo  burst  into  a  new  paroxysm  of  distress,  and  Dolf,  after 


THAT  MONEY   IN  THE   BANK.     447 

a  brief  struggle  with  his  own   disappointment,  turned  on 
her : 

"  Yer  needn't  rouse  de  house  wid  yer  hurlyburly,"  said 
he,  savagely.  "  Better  'member  Miss  Elsie's  sick." 

Clo  stared  at  him  in  tearless  horror ;  a  new  fear  struck 
her ;  was  he  going  to  prove  false. 

"Don't  talk  so,"  she  said  ;  "  tink  of  yesterday,  Dolf! " 

Dolf  drew  himself  up,  and  looked  first  at  her  and  then  at 
the  company  with  an  air  of  profound  astonishment. 

"I  tink  her  brain  am  turned,"  said  he. 

"'Taint!"  roared  Clo.  "Oh,  Dolfy,  yer  said  yer  loved 
me  ;  yer  knows  yer  did  ;  dat  yer  didn't  care  for  money  j  dat 
I  was  a  Wenus  in  yer  eyes — oh — oh  ! " 

"  Wai,  I  do  declarl  "  cried  Vic. 

Dolf  flew  into  a  great  rage. 

"Miss  Clorindy,  yer  sorrow  makes  yer  forget  yersclf; 
yer've  ben  a  dreaming." 

Clo  drew  her  apron  from  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  j 
lightning  was  gathering  there  which  he  would  have  done 
well  to  heed,  but  he  did  not. 

"  Does  yer  mean  that  ?  "  she  demanded,  sternly. 

"  Sartin,  I  does." 

"  Yer  denies  kneelin'  at  my  feet  an'  sayin',  "  Wasn't  de 
onions  made  yer  cry  ;  a  pleadin'  and  a  coaxin'  till  I  'sented 
to  marry  yer." 

"  In  course  I  does,"  repeated  Dolf,  doggedly. 

"  Take  care  !     Jis'  tink  !  " 

"  Miss  Clo,  dis  ere  ain't  decorous ;  I'se  'stonished  at 
yer!" 

With  a  bound  like  an  unchained  tigress  Clo  sprang  at 
him.  Dolf  dodged,  ran  behind  the  startled  group,  in  and 
out  among  the  chairs,  through  the  kitchen,  back  again,  and 
Clo  at  his  heels.  She  had  caught  up  a  broom  j  once  or 
twice  she  managed  to  hit  him,  and  her  sobs  of  rage  min 
gled  with  Dolf 's  cries  of  distress. 


448          UNEXPECTED      DEVELOPMENTS. 

"  Take  her  off,"  he  shrieked  ;  "ketch  a  hold  of  her !  " 

"  I'll  kill  him,"  shouted  Clo.  "  Til  break  every  bone  in 
his  'fernal  body  !  Oh,  yer  varmint,  yer  cattle  ! " 

They  laid  hands  on  Clorinda  at  length,  though  it  was  a 
difficult  operation ;  and  Dolf  took  refuge  behind  a  great 
chair,  peeping  through  the  slats  at  the  back,  with  his  eyes 
rolling  and  his  teeth  chattering  like  some  frightened 
monkey  in  a  cage. 

The  women  were  consoling  and  blaming  Clo  ;  Vic  divided 
between  conviction  and  anger,  and  Othello,  like  a  sensible 
man,  siding  neither  way. 

Suddenly  they  were  roused  by  a  prolonged  cry  from  the 
floor  above,  a  cry  so  shrill  and  unearthly  that  it  froze  the 
blood  in  their  reins.  In  an  instant  there  followed  a  loud 
knocking  at  the  outer  door,  and  forgetful  of  their  own 
troubles,  they  crowded  together  like  a  flock  of  frightened 
crows  driven  from  a  cornfield. 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 

UNEXPECTED    DEVELOPMENTS. 

THE  evening  had  passed  very  pleasantly  to  Elsie ;  Mel- 
len  had  humored  her  caprices  at  whatever  cost  to  himself, 
and  kept  her  thoughts  as  much  aloof  as  possible  from  the 
events  of  the  past  days. 

It  was  growing  late,  and  he  had  several  times  reminded 
her  that  it  was  time  she  went  to  rest.  Tom  Fuller  had 
taken  the  first  hint  and  retired. 

"  Let  me  sit  up  a  little  longer,"  she  pleaded ;  "  I  am  not 
in  the  least  sleepy;  it  is  so  nice  to  get  out  of  that  dull 
chamber." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  you  will  tire  yourself  so  completely, 
that  to-morrow  you  cannot  come  down  at  all." 


UNEXPECTED   DEVELOPMENTS.    449 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  danger  of  that ;  I  am 
stronger  than  you  think.  When  this  little  dizziness  in  my 
head  leaves  me  I  shall  be  quite  well." 

They  talked  a  few  moments  longer,  then  she  began  turn 
ing  over  the  papers  on  a  stand  near  her  sofa.  Suddenly 
she  took  up  a  letter,  and  glancing  at  the  writing,  exclaimed : 

"  This  is  from  Mr.  Hudson !  You  did  not  tell  me  that 
you  had  heard." 

11  It  came  this  afternoon  while  you  were  asleep." 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  Does  he  know  where  she  is  ? 
Will  you  send  him  money  for  her  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  necessity.'7 

"  But  she  must  have  it ;  she  can't  live.'7 

"My  dear,  she  has  her  money.  He  writes  me  that  some 
time  since  he  sold  out  the  stocks  by  her  orders.  She  was 
doubtless  preparing  to  leave  the  country  with  that  man.'7 

Elsie  fell  back  on  the  sofa  overwhelmed  by  the  new  fear 
which  came  over  her.  The  money  had  been  paid ;  but 
where  was  Elizabeth  ?  What  to  do — how  to  act !  Before 
the  whirl  had  left  her  brain  there  was  a  sound  at  the  door 
of  the  little  passage  already  described. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Mellen.  "  Some  one  try 
ing  that  door." 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried.  "  Come  back  ;  it's  nothing  ;  I'm 
afraid  ;  come  back  !  " 

He  gave  no  attention  to  her  cry,  but  hurried  towards  the 
door,  while  she  was  attempting  to  rise  from  the  sofa ;  he 
had  it  open,  Elsie  heard  a  muttered  curse,  an  answering 
imprecation  from  another  voice,  looked  out,  saw  the  outer 
door  ajar  and  a  man  just  entering  the  passage  with  whom 
Mellen  closed  instantly  in  a  fearful  struggle. 

That  one  glance  had  been  enough  ;  she  knew  the  man  ; 
then  it  was  her  insane  shriek  rang  through  the  house. 

Mellen  forced  Eord  into  the  room,  flung  him  against  the 
wall,  locked  the  door,  and  exclaimed  in  a  terrible  voice : 
28 


450  UNEXPECTED      DEVELOPMENTS. 

"  At  last !  at  last ! " 

A  bell  rang  at  the  front  entrance,  but  no  one  in  that 
room  heeded  it. 

Mellen  sprang  towards  the  man  again,  but  he  cried  out 
savagely : 

"  Keep  off,  if  you  value  your  life,  keep  off/' 
"  One  of  us  dies  here  !  "  cried  Mellen.     "  William  Ford, 
one  of  us  dies  here !  " 

After  that  long  shriek  Elsie  had  fallen  back  helpless;  she 
had  not  fainted,  but  a  sort  of  cateleptic  rigor  locked  her 
limbs  ;  there  she  lay  without  voice  or  power  of  motion,  lis 
tening  to  their  words,  which  seemed  to  come  through  blocks 
of  ice. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you  here/'  said  Ford,  calling 
up  a  sudden  audacity.  "  It's  an  honor  I  did  not  wish." 

"  I  know  who  you  expected  to  see  ;  but  the  woman  is 
gone  ;  you  must  seek  her  elsewhere  ! " 

"  Then  }TOU  have  driven  her  to  destruction  at  last.  I  tell 
you,  sir,  we  are  a  pack  of  cowards  hunting  down  an  angel. 
You  and  I  and  that  pretty  imp  of  satan.  I  came  to  tell 
you  this :  bad  as  I  am,  her  goodness  has  touched  me  with 
human  feelings.  If  she  is  here  and  alive,  justice  shall  be 
done  her,  and  for  once  the  truth  shall  be  spoken  under  this 
roof.  That  woman  has  bribed  me  to  shield  another  through 
her.  Soul  and  body  she  has  been  made  a  sacrifice.  There 
is  danger  to  me  here.  This  bit  of  goodness  may  bring  ruin 
upon  me,  but  I  cannot  leave  the  country  forever,  and  know 
that  she  is  being  ground  to  dust  under  your  heel ;  while 
that  other  flimsy  coward  crowds  her  from  hearth  and  home. 
For  once,  Grantley  Mellen,  you  shall  be  forced  to  hear  the 
truth  and  believe  it." 

"  The  truth  from  you  ! "  exclaimed  Mellen,  with  unut 
terable  scorn,  "  that  or  anything  else  from  so  vile  a  source 
I  reject — go,  sir,  we  are  not  alone  ! " 

Ford,  or  North,  glanced  towards  the  sofa  ;  recognised 
Elsie  lying  there,  and  turned  again  towards  Mellen. 


UNEXPECTED      DEVELOPMENTS.  451 

"  Twice  you  have  broken  up  my  life,"  cried  Mellen,  "  but 
this  time  you  shall  not  escape  !  Here,  in  the  home  you  have 
dishonored,  you  shall  meet  your  fate.  Burglar,  villain,  how 
did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"By  the  way  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  reaching  these 

[  hoped  to  see  your  wife  here,  and  tell  her  that  at 

I  was  resolved  to  knock  my  chains  from  her  soul.     She 

never  would  have  spoken  ;  but  nothing,  even  though  she  had 

gone  on  her  knees  again,   should  have  silenced   me  !     If 

she  is  not  alive  to  benefit  by  the  exculpation,  I  am  resolved 

that  her  memory,  at  least,  shall  be  saved  all  reproach  " 

believe,"  said  Mellen,  with  cool  scorn,  "that  it  is 
expected  that  a  man  should  perjure  himself  in  behalf  of  a 
woman  whom  he  has  dragged  into  sin,  but  here,  impudent 
falsehoods  of  this  kind,  count  for  nothing." 

"But  you  shall  believe  me  !  If  that  woman  is  lost,  if 
she  has  gone  mad,  for  she  was  mad,  when  I  left  her  in  the 
graveyard,  if  she  has  wandered  off  and  perished,  or  worse 
still " 

"Hold,  hold!"  cried  Mellen,  shuddering. 

"If  she  is  lost  or  dead,"  continued  North,  without  heed 
ing  the  anguish  in  this  cry,  "you  have  murdered  the 
sweetest  and  noblest  woman  that  ever  drew  breath,  and 
only  that  the  worthless  thing  lying  yonder,  should  continue 
to  be  pampered  and  sit  above  her." 

Mellen  started  to  his  feet. 

"Silence!"  he  thundered.  "Do  not  dare  to  take  the 
name  of  that  innocent  child  into  your  lips." 

A  keen,  sarcastic  laugh,  preceded  the  answer  North  gave 
to  this. 

"So  that  strikes  home,  does  it  ?  Your  wife  has  probably 
died  by  her  own  hand,  but  you  do  not  feel  it.  When  that 
paltry  thing  is  mentioned,  you  tear  at  the  bit  and  beo-in  to 
rave,  as  if  she  were  the  most  worthy  creature  on  earth. 
All,  ha  !  There  you  are  wounded,  my  friend." 

Mellen  remembered  Elsie's  presence. 


452          UNEXPECTED      DEVELOPMENTS. 

"  Well/'  he  cried,  pointing  to  her,  "  that  woman  only 
had  my  heart;  my  blood  did  not  run  in  her  veins  ;  if  you 
had  struck  me  there  the  blow  would  have  been  keener." 

The  man  laughed  again ;  Elsie  heard  both  words  and 
laugh,  as  she  lay  in  that  marble  trance.  Had  she  been  laid 
out  shrouded  for  burial  she  could  not  have  been  more 
helpless. 

"  So  you  drove  your  wife  away ;  out  of  the  house  ? " 
cried  the  man.  "  I  guessed  as  much." 

"  She  is  gone  for  ever,  but  you  shall  not  live  to  join  her." 

"  Before  now  she  is  dead  !  Listen  to  what  you  have 
done.  I  repeat  it,  your  wife  was  as  innocent  as  an  angel. 
She  is  dead,  and  I  tell  you  so,  knowing  how  it  will  poison 
your  life.  If  there  was  guilt  or  dishonor  in  loving  me  it 
belonged  to  that  pretty  heap  of  deception  on  the  sofa. 
Hear  that,  and  let  your  soul  writhe  under  it,  for  your  blood 
does  run  in  her  veins.  I  came  to  tell  you  this.  That  great 
hearted  creature  forced  the  truth  back  in  my  throat,  the 
other  night;  but  you  shall  hear  it  now.  There  lies  the 
mother  of  the  child  we  buried,  the  other  night !  " 

"  Liar  !     Traitor !  "  cried  Mellen. 

Again  came  a  violent  ringing  of  the  door-bell ;  steps  in 
the  hall ;  this  time  the  two  men  listened. 

"  I  am  pursued,"  muttered  Ford  ;  "  they've  cornered  me  ; 
it  is  your  turn  now." 

"  I  will  give  you  up  if  these  are  enemies,"  cried  Mellen  ; 
"  there  is  no  escape." 

He  took  one  stride  towards  the  door,  but  Ford  called 
out : 

"  You  are  giving  up  your  sister's  husband  ;  remember  the 
whole  world  shall  know  it." 

There  was  bitter  truth  in  the  tone,  but  before  Mellen 
could  move  or  speak,  the  door  opened  and  two  officers 
entered  the  room. 

"  We  have  him  safe,"  said  one  of  the  intruders  as  he 
passed  Mellen.  "  Caught  at  bet,  my  fine  fellow." 


UNEXPECTED      DEVELOPMENTS.  453 

Ford  started  back — thrust  one  band  under  bis  vest,  and 
drew  it  out  again — there  was  a  flash — a  stunning  report — 
be  staggered  back  against  the  wall,  shot  through  the  chest. 

For  a  few  instants  there  was  wild  confusion  ;  the  servants 
rushed  in,  the  wounded  criminal  was  lifted  up,  but  during 
all  that  time  Elsie  lay  on  the  sofa  quite  unnoticed,  not 
insensible  yet,  but  utterly  helpless,  so  blasted  by  the  shock 
that  mind  and  body  seemed  withering  under  it. 

Ford  sat  on  the  floor  in  gloomy  silence.  In  spite  of  his 
resistance  an  effort  was  made  to  staunch  the  blood  which  was 
trickling  down  bis  shirt  bosom,  but  he  said  in  a  low,  quiet 
voice : 

"  It  is  useless.  I  have  cheated  you  at  last — the  first  good 
act  of  my  life  has  killed  me — I  am  a  dying  man.  It  was 
my  last  stake,  and  I  have  lost  it." 

A  great  change  in  his  face  proved  the  truth  of  his  words  ; 
even  the  officers,  inured  to  scenes  of  suffering  and  pain, 
recoiled  before  his  stony  nardihood. 

One  of  them  spoke  in  explanation  to  Mellen. 

"  We  don't  know  what  he  wanted  here ;  we  have  been 
on  his  track  for  dajTs ;  he  committed  a  forgery,  months  ago, 
and  was  trying  to  get  off  to  Europe  just  as  it  was  found 
out." 

"  He's  bound  on  a  longer  journey,  that  you  cannot  stop 
now,"  said  Ford.  "  Mellen,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you 
— better  send  these  men  away  unless  you  want  our  little 
affairs  discussed  before  them." 


454  THE      CONFESSION. 

CHAPTER   LXXVI. 

THE    CONFESSION. 

AFTER  a  few  moments  the  men  went  out  and  left  Mellen 
alone  with  the  suicide — in  his  excitement  Mellen  forgot 
Elsie's  presence,  and  the  dreadful  state  she  was  in. 

"  I  am  dying,"  said  Ford  ;  "  I  may  live  the  night  out — 
it  don't  matter  !  You  are  glad  to  see  my  blood  run — that's 
natural  enough  !  Man,  man,  the  torment  I  go  to  isn't  half 
as  bad  as  that  I  shall  leave  behind  for  you." 

"  Say  quickly  what  you  wish,"  exclaimed  Mellen,  forget 
ting  even  his  hatred  in  the  dreadful  picture  his  enemy  made, 
his  garments  red  with  blood,  his  face  pale  with  the  death 
agony,  distorted  with  baffled  rage  and  hate.  "  I  believe 
nothing  you  say — you  cannot  move  me." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  man.  "  These  fellows  have  tied  my 
hands — put  yours  in  my  coat  pocket — you'll  find  three  let 
ters,  a  paper  and  a  roll  of  money." 

Mellen  obeyed,  shuddering  to  feel  the  blood  drops  warm 
on  his  fingers  as  he  drew  forth  the  package. 

"  Bead  them,"  said  Ford,  briefly. 

Mellen  opened  one  after  another  of  the  epistles  and  read 
— they  were  in  Elsie's  writing — they  proved  the  truth  of 
the  villain's  assertions.  The  smaller  paper  was  a  marriage 
certificate.  The  roll  of  bills — each  note  for  a  thousand  dol 
lars — was  the  price  of  Elizabeth's  bonds. 

Mellen  staggered  back  with  one  heartbroken  cry. 

"  I  have  touched  you,"  exclaimed  the  man  !  There  lies 
your  precious  sister  in  a  dead  faint — here  I  am,  dying,  a 
criminal,  but  your  brother-in-law  none  the  less  —  stoop 
down,  I  want  to  whisper  something." 

Mellen  bent  his  head,  for  his  enemy  was  dying. 

"  It  is  a  fair  certificate  you  see,  but  I  was  a  married  man 
all  the  time." 


THE      CONFESSION.  455 

As  Ford  whispered  these  words  a  fiendish  smile  covered 
the  lips  on  which  death  was  scattering  ashes. 

Mellen  started  forward  with  a  wild  impulse  to  choke  the 
ebbing  life  from  his  lips,  but  they  whispered  hoarsely  : 

"  You  can't  fight  a  dying  man — you'll  only  put  me  out 
of  this  cursed  pain  if  you  choke  me." 

Mellen  stood  transfixed. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  story,"  continued  Ford;  "novels 
always  have  dying  confessions  in  them — hear  mine.  I  tell 
you  because  it  is  too  late  to  remedy  what  you  have  done — 
your  wife  is  gone — I'm  glad  of  it.  She  was  ten  thousand 
times  too  good  for  any  of  you.  She's  dead,  I  dare  say ; 
just  the  woman  to  do  it,  without  a  word,  and  all  for  that 
little  heap  of  froth." 

Mellen  could  not  speak ;  he  felt  about  blindly  for  support, 
and  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  I  always  hated  you,"  Ford  went  on,  and  the  hatred  of 
a  life  burned  in  his  voice  and  convulsed  his  face.  "  When 
we  were  boys  together,  I  swore  to  pay  you  off  for  getting 
that  old  man's  money  away  from  me,  his  rightful  heir. 
That  was  bad  enough,  but  your  insolent  kindness,  your 
infernal,  condescending  generosity,  was  ten  times  worse. 
Mighty  willing,  you  were,  to  dole  out  money  that  was  more 
mine  than  yours,  and  claim  gratitude  for  it.  But  1  had  a 
little  revenge  at  the  time,  remember.  I  took  away  the 
woman  you  loved — I  cheated  you  out  of  money — that  was 
something,  but  not  enough.  I  came  back  to  this  country 
just  after  you  sailed  from  Europe,  and  even  before  I  ever 
saw  the  woman  who  became  your  wife,  or  your  sister,  I  had 
formed  my  plan — it  succeeded.  I  met  that  bunch  of  flimsy 
falsehood — I  made  her  love  me — made  her  mad  for  me — 
you  wince — I'm  glad  of  it.  But  mind  me,  I  would  not 
have  married  her  after  all,  but  that  I  thought  she  had  in 
herited  half  her  old  uncle's  property.  It  would  not  have 
been  worth  while  to  saddle  myself  with  a  thing  like  that. 


456  THE      CONFESSION. 

Then  came  your  turn  to  laugh,  if  you  had  but  known  it. 
I  was  taken  in — sold.  The  creature  had  not  a  cent,  and  no 
hope  of  one  if  she  offended  you. 

"  It  was  a  hateful  position,  especially  as  I  did  not  care  for 
the  pretty  fool  after  the  speculation  failed,  and  what's 
better,  she  soon  got  over  caring  for  me,  just  as  the  other  did, 
and  wanted  to  be  off  her  bargain.  I  had  given  her  a 
glimpse  or  two  of  my  way  of  life.  That  did  not  frighten 
her,  but  my  poverty  did.  This  little  sister  of  yours  has 
luxurious  tastes,  and  understands  the  value  of  wealth  un 
commonly  well.  But  she  had  told  me  just  how  far  you  had 
made  your  wife  independent  in  means.  It  was  a  pretty  sum, 
and  I  saw  a  way  of  getting  it. 

"  Elsie  had  told  me  a  great  deal  about  your  wife,  and  I 
made  my  own  observations,  though  she  detested  me  from  the 
first,  some  women  will  take  such  fancies.  I  say  nothing  of 
certain  wires  that  I  had  laid  in  the  basement  region  of  your 
house. 

"  The  little  goose  yonder  really  believed  that  you  had  mar 
ried  that  glorious  woman  only  as  a  companion  for  her — that 
you  did  not  love  her  in  the  least.  I  knew  better ;  she  was 
a  woman  to  adore,  worship  for  ever  and  ever :  and  you  are 
no  fool  in  such  matters,  I  know  that  of  old  our  tastes  in  that 
direction  have  always  harmonized  beautifully.  Your  wife 
adored  you  ;  1  can  say  this  now  that  you  have  killed  her, 
but  that  little  witch  convinced  her  of  the  story  she  told  me, 
and  it  was  breaking  her  heart,  for  that  woman  had  a  heart. 

"  To  save  you  from  trouble  and  the  creature  that  you  wor 
shipped  even  in  her  presence  from  disgrace,  I  knew  that 
she  would  give  up  everything,  even  her  life,  which  you  have 
taken  at  last. 

"  I  told  Elsie  the  truth,  after  I  got  a  little  tired  of  her, 
which  was  early  in  the  honeymoon  ;  let  her  know  frankly 
that  I  had  a  wife  living  in  Europe,  though  it  was  impossible 
for  any  one  to  prove  it  against  my  will.  The  very  day  that 


THE      CONFESSION.  457 

I  told  her  this  I  managed  to  convey  some  of  her  letters  to 
me — fond,  silly  things  they  were — into  your  wife's  room. 
Then  I  sent  Elsie  home  to  tell  her  own  story. 

"  The  girl  was  mad,  crazy  as  a  March  hare,  went  into 
hysterics,  made  an  insane  effort  to  kill  herself,  took  poison 
and  heaven  knows  what  else  in  the  presence  of  your  wife. 
1  knew  she  would,  and  set  her  loose  for  that  purpose.  These 
tragedies  were  kept  up  till  your  wife,  thinking  your  soul 
bound  up  in  the  girl,  and  herself  nothing  in  comparison, 
made  a  solemn  promise  never  to  betray  Elsie's  secret,  and  to 
shield  her  from  all  harm  with  her  own  life  if  needful.  I 
heard  this  and  knew  that  my  money  was  safe. 

"  Your  wife  came  to  me,  for  I  was  not  permitted  to  enter 
the  house  after  she  found  me  out.  There  was  a  woman  !  I 
swear  the  only  creature  of  the  sex  that  I  ever  respected. 
She  was  firm  but  grand  in  her  generosity,  ready  to  sacrifice 
everything  so  long  as  it  took  Elsie  out  of  my  power.  I 
gave  up  more  of  the  letters,  reserving  these  three  for  use, 
unknown  to  her.  She  raised  all  the  money  in  her  power  at 
the  time,  but  I  kept  the  certificate,  resolved  not  to  sell  that 
without  demanding  the  last  cent  she  possessed. 

"  In  telling  my  grand  secret,  I  had  been  cautious  to  keep 
all  possibility  of  proof  to  myself.  They  knew  that  my  first 
wife,  your  old  lady  love,  was  living,  but  had  no  means  of 
proving  the  fact,  or  even  that  I  had  ever  been  married  at 
all,  otherwise  my  position  might  have  been  dangerous  ;  as 
it  was,  those  two  women  were  like  flies  in  a  spider's  web. 

"  Our  child,  your  nephew,  was  born,  and  died,  fortunately 
for  us  all.  They  were  obliged  to  trust  me  a  little  then. 
Your  wife  summoned  me  to  the  house,  for  she  was  afraid  to 
claim  help  from  any  other  human  being — I  went,  and  with 
my  own  hands  buried  it  under  a  cypress  tree  in  your  grounds. 
That  heroic  woman  stood  \>y  and  watched.  She  would  not 
trust  me  out  of  her  sight,  fearing  that  I  might  attempt  to 
see  Elsie,  whom  she  guarded  like  a  mother  bird  when  hawks 


458  THE      CONFESSION. 

are  near.  Noble  soul.  It  was  all  useless  ;  1  had  no  wish  to 
see  that  faithless  little  imp,  and  as  for  her,  I  dare  say  she 
was  glad  to  get  rid  of  me  even  at  the  hitter  cost  she  was 
paying.  In  fact  I  know  she  was,  after  that  other  noble 
creature  took  up  her  burden. 

"  Well,  after  this  I  got  a  little  money  from  your  wife  now 
and  then,  under  threats  of  claiming  my  wife,  which  always 
brought  her  to  terms — remember  I  had  told  her  she  was  not 
my  legal  wife,  but  held  proofs  that  she  was — I  could  claim 
or  reject  her  as  I  pleased. 

"  But  one  day  a  new  idea  came  into  my  head ;  I  found 
out  that  you  were  coming  home  just  as  the  steamer  which 
brought  you  was  on  the  coast.  That  your  will  had  been 
made,  leaving  all  you  had  to  be  equally  divided  between 
your  wife  and  sister.  If  you  should  never  reach  shore  Elsie 
would  be  worth  claiming  in  earnest.  But  with  that  news 
came  a  letter  from  my  wife ;  against  my  commands  she  was 
following  me  to  this  country,  just  -when  her  presence  was 
certain  ruin." 

The  man  broke  off  in  his  narration  here,  evidently  con 
vulsed  with  more  than  physical  pain,  specks  of  foam  flew  to 
his  lips,  great  drops  of  agony  stood  on  his  forehead. 

"  Brandy  ;  give  me  some  brandy  !  "  he  cried  out  huskily. 
"  Some  brandy,  I  say." 

Mellen  poured  some  brandy  into  a  glass  and  held  it  to 
his  mouth.  He  drank  eagerly,  and  sank  back  to  the  floor 
again. 

"  What's  the  use  of  talking  about  that  ?  I  would  have 
saved  her  at  the  last,  and  tried  hard  enough,  but  the  storm 
was  too  much  for  me.  After  all  that,  you  baffled  me  and 
got  on  shore ;  the  fiends  must  have  guided  that  pilot  boat. 
I  got  frightened  too.  It  was  not  a  part  of  my  programme 
to  go  down  with  you." 

"  Wretch ! "  said  Mellen,  struck  with  a  sudden  idea, 
"you  were  the  person  who  nearly  lost  me  among  the 
breakers." 


THE     CONFESSION.  459 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ford.  "  We  both  had  a  narrow  chance, 
but  the  risk  was  worth  running — that  is,  if  your  will  really 
was  made — but  when  you  once  touched  shore  all  hope  for  me 
was  over.  I  must  leave  America  ;  I  sent  word  to  your  wife 
that  I  must  have  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  or  claim  my 
wife. 

"  She  was  trying  to  get  it ;  she  gave  me  the  bracelet  as  a 
bribe  for  delay,  one  night  when  I  came.  Still  of  one  thing 
I  pledge  you  my  soul,  it  is  pretty  much  all  I  have  left  now, 
your  wife  never  dreamed  that  I  was  your  enemy,  Ford.  She 
knew  I  was  a  villain,  and  held  the  fate  of  that  pretty  fool 
in  my  hands.  Now  you  have  the  whole  story.  I  came 
here  to-night  because  I  had  not  heard  from  her ;  now  I  be 
lieve  she's  dead.  I  thought  I  would  see  that  girl  there. 
Now,  then,  Grantley  Mellen,  are  you  satisfied  ?  You  have 
driven  your  wife  away,  you  could  believe  her  guilty,  and  pet 
that  frivolous  thing  in  her  place  ! " 

"  '  When  did  I  first  see  her  ? '  when  she  was  a  flirty  little 
school  girl. 

"  '  When  did  I  marry  her  ?  '  what  there  was  of  it,  remem 
ber — just  after  you  started  for  California,  when  the  widow 
Harrington  innocently  brought  me  a  guest  into  this  house 
against  the  wishes  of  its  mistress,  who  had  seen  me  about 
the  boarding-school,  charming  the  canary  birds  with  sere 
nades.  Once  or  twice  she  caught  me  with  my  guitar  play 
ing  the  fool  under  her  own  window.  Of  course  she  was  not 
certain  whether  the  homage  was  intended  for  her  or  Elsie, 
but  I  think  took  it  to  herself  and  was  indignant,  giving  me 
in  exchange  for  my  music,  such  looks  as  a  queen  might  be 
stow  on  her  slave.  I  rather  liked  her  for  it ;  that  kind  of 
homage  was  not  suited  to  her.  The  heap  of  thistle  down 
yonder  liked  it.  She  knew  what  it  meant.  The  only  deep 
thing  about  such  creatures  is  their  craft.  That  girl  is 
cunning  as  a  fox.  The  pure,  innocent  thing,  for  whom 
that  splendid  creature  was  sacrificed  j  if  I  were  not  dying, 
the  idea  would  make  me  laugh. 


4GO  SEARCHING. 

"  There,  now  are  we  even  ?  You  deprived  me  of  a  for 
tune  I  was  brought  up  to  expect ;  I  have  managed  to  get 
some  of  it  back.  You  loved  a  woman,  and  I  married  her. 
You  married  another  woman,  the  most  glorious  creature  I 
ever  saw,  and  in  a  fit  of  jealous  rage  with  me,  turned  her 
out  upon  the  world  to  die. 

u  Tell  me  now,  if  my  revenge  has  been  complete  ?  " 

Mellen  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

"  Come  in,"  he  cried  to  the  officers.  "  Carry  that  man 
away  !  Take  him  to  the  lodge  ;  he  shall  not  even  die  here." 

"  As  you  will,"  cried  Ford.  "  I  will  hold  my  tongue  for 
that  poor  woman's  sake." 

He  could  not  walk,  so  they  carried  him  down  to  the 
lodge,  and  there,  while  waiting  for  a  doctor  to  come,  he  sat 
looking  death  in  the  face,  with  the  same  desperate  bravado 
that  had  marked  his  conduct  all  the  night. 


CHAPTER  LXXVII. 

SEARCHING. 

SHRIEK  after  shriek  from  Elsie  roused  Mellen.  She  was 
raving  in  horrible  delirium,  and  when  assistance  arrived  it 
proved  that  she  had  been  seized  with  brain  fever,  and  there 
was  scarcely  a  hope  of  her  recovery. 

Standing  there  by  her  bed,  this  thought  must  have  been 
a  relief  to  Mellen  ;  but  he  did  not  forsake  her,  his  pride 
was  utterly  crushed.  He  longed  to  cast  himself  down  by 
her  side  and  die  there. 

The  next  morning,  when  nurses  and  physicians  arrived, 
Mellen  left  the  house.  He  was  going  out  on  an  aimless 
search  for  his  lost  wife — the  woman  who  had  given  up  her 
last  hope  for  him  and  his. 


SEARCHING.  461 

He  learned  at  the  lodge  that  the  wounded  prisoner  had 
been  carried  to  the  village  by  his  own  command  ;  that  he 
was  alive  still,  but  could  not  last  more  than  another  day  ; 
that  his  name  was  North,  and  he  was  well-known  among 
the  sporting  gentry  who  came  to  the  shore  tavern.  All 
this  was  told  him  as  news. 

Mellen  hurried  to  the  city  and  commenced  his  task.  He 
sought  for  Elizabeth  in  every  place  where  there  was  a  pos 
sibility  of  her  having  taking  refuge,  but  without  avail. 
He  used  every  means  in  his  power  to  make  some  discovery, 
but  they  were  ineffectual. 

When  night  came  he  returned  home,  only  to  hear  Elsie's 
mad  shrieks  and  laughter  echoing  through  the  desolate 
house,  to  pass  the  night  with  those  sounds  ringing  in  his 
ears,  and  feel  that  terrible  remorse  tugging  at  his  heart. 

The  next  morning  he  started  again  on  his  errand.  He 
was  told  in  the  village  that  the  man  was  dead.  The  story 
had  gone  abroad  that  he  was  a  daring  burglar,  and  that  the 
officers  had  surprised  him  breaking  into  Mellen's  house. 
He  had  found  no  strength  to  tell  his  story,  so  fear  of  open 
disgrace  perished  with  him. 

In  the  madness  of  his  grief,  Mellen  had  forgotten  that 
Tom  Fuller  was  his  guest.  The  young  man's  chamber  was 
in  another  wing  of  the  building,  and  he  heard  nothing  of 
the  wild  turmoil  that  distracted  the  family.  Tom  was  not 
a  very  early  riser,  and  when  he  came  down  in  the  morning, 
sauntering  lazily  into  the  breakfast-room,  expecting  to  see 
Elsie  there  in  her  pretty  blue  morning-dress  and  flossy 
curls,  he  found  the  room  empty,  no  table  spread,  and  no 
human  being  to  greet  him. 

"  Well,  this  is  strange,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  when  Bessie  is 
away  things  will  go  to  sixes  and  sevens,  I  dare  be  sworn. 
And  Elsie  isn't  well,  poor  darling !  Hallo !  there  goes 
Mellen,  riding  like  a  trooper!  What  on  earth  does  all  this 
mean  ?  I  am  getting  hungry,  and  lonesome,  and '; 


462  SEARCHING. 

Here  Tom  gave  a  jerk  at  the  bell,  and  cast  himself  into 
an  easy  chair. 

Dolf  presented  his  woe-begone  face  at  the  door. 

"What's  the  matter,  Dolf?  Isn't  it  breakfast-time? 
Where  is  your  master  going — and — and — Well,  Dolf,  can't 
you  tell  me  why  Miss  Elsie  isn't  down  ?  " 

"  Miss  Elsie,  oh,  sah,  she  am  sick." 

"  Sick,  Dolf!  You  don't  say  that  ?  "  cried  Tom,  starting 
up,  with  his  face  all  in  a  chill  of  anxiety. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  just  dat,  and  nothing  else." 

"No,  no;  not  very  sick,  Dolf,"  cried  Tom,  trembling 
through  all  his  great  frame,  "  only  a  little  nervous,  a  head 
ache,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  She's  just  ravin' — crazy — ask  Vic  if  you  don't  believe 
me.  The  doctors  come  in  before  daylight ;  I  went  after 
'em  myself.  Robbers  broke  into  de  house  last  night,  sah, 
and  frightened  our  sweet  young  lady  a'most  to  death." 

"Robbers,  Dolf!" 

"  Yes,  sah.  A  gemman,  too,  as  has  been  a  visitor  in  dis 
dentical  house.  Marster  catched  him  in  de  act  ob  takin' 
out  de  silver,  and  de  gemman — robber,  I  mean — felt  so 
'shamed  ob  himself  dat  he  up  and  banged  a  bullet  straight 
frough  his  own  bussom,  afore  Miss  Elsie,  too !  " 

"  Poor  thing ;  precious  little  darling,"  cried  Tom ;  "  Mel- 
len's  left  her  all  alone,  and  Elizabeth  away ;  dear  me  ! 
Dolf,  Dolf,  what  was  that  ?  " 

"It's  her  a  screaming." 

"  What,  Elsie,-  my  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah  ;  dat  am  her." 

"  Dolf,  I  say,"  cried  Tom,  in  breathless  anxiety,  thrust 
ing  a  ten  dollar  gold  piece  into  the  negro's  hand ;  "  Dolf, 
would  it  be  very  much  amiss,  you  know,  if  I  was  to  take 
off  my  boots  and  just  steal  up  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  doesn't  'zactly  know  ;  de  fair  sex  am  so  captious 
'bout  us  gemmen ;  but  Vic  is  up  dar,  and  you  can  ask  her, 


SEARCHING.  463 

sbe  knows  all  'bout  de  'prieties.  Smart  gal,  dat  Vic,  I  tell 
you ;  loves  Miss  Elsie,  too,  like  fifty." 

"  Does  she  ?  "  said  Tom  ;  "  here's  another  gold  piece, 
give  it  to  her,  with  my  best  regards,  Dolf." 

Dolf  pocketed  the  gold  piece,  and  that  was  the  last  time 
it  saw  the  light  for  many  a  day.  Tom  took  off  his  boots 
and  crept  upstairs  in  his  stocking  feet,  holding  his  breath 
as  he  went.  Vic  came  out  of  the  shaded  room,  and  the 
young  man's  grief  softened  her  so  much  that  she  allowed 
him  to  steal  into  Elsie's  boudoir,  where  he  sat  all  the  morn 
ing  listening  to  the  poor  girl's  muttered  fancies,  after  brib 
ing  Vic  with  gold  pieces  to  leave  the  door  open,  that  he 
might  catch  a  glimpse  now  and  then  of  the  beloved  face, 
flushed  and  wild  as  it  was. 

Generous,  noble-hearted  Tom  Fuller  ;  he  had  been  really 
hungry  when  he  came  from  his  own  room,  but  all  that  was 
forgotten  now,  and  there  he  sat  fasting  till  the  shadows 
slanted  eastward.  Then  he  saw  Mellen  riding  towards  the 
house  at  a  slow,  weary  pace,  which  bespoke  great  de 
pression. 

Tom  arose  and  went  downstairs,  urged  to  meet  his  friend 
by  the  kindest  heart  that  ever  beat  in  a  human  bosom. 

"  She's  better,  I  am  quite  sure ;  she  slept  two  or  three 
minutes ;  so  don't  look  so  downhearted,"  he  cried,  seizing 
Mellen's  hand  as  he  dismounted.  "  But  where's  Elizabeth  ? 
I  thought  you  had  gone  after  her." 

"  Elizabeth,  my  wife,"  answered  Mellen,  lifting  his  hag 
gard  eyes  to  Tom's  face.  "  She  is  gone — lost — dead.  My 
friend,  my  friend,  I  have  murdered  your  cousin,  murdered 
my  own  wife." 

"  Murdered  her ;  now  I  like  that,"  said  Fuller ;  "  but 
M'here  is  she  ?  not  gone  off  in  a  tiff.  Bessie  wasn't  the  girl 
to  do  that  any  way  ;  but  as  for  murder,  oh  nonsense  !  " 

"  Fuller,  you  are  her  only  relative,  and  have  a  right  to 
know.  Come  out  into  the  grounds,  the  air  of  the  house 
would  stifle  me." 


464  SEARCHING. 

They  sat  down  together  on  a  garden  chair  within  sight 
of  the  old  cypress. 

"  I  have  been  a  proud  man,  Fuller,  sensitive  beyond 
ever}Tthing  to  the  honor  of  my  family,  but  never  knowingly 
have  I  allowed  this  feeling  to  stand  between  my  soul  and 
justice.  Your  cousin  has  been  terribly  wronged  since  she 
came  under  my  roof.  It  is  now  too  late  for  reparation,  but 
to  you,  her  only  relative,  the  truth  must  be  known.  I  will 
not  even  ask  you  to  keep  the  facts  secret.  I  have  no 
right." 

"  Look  here,  old  fellow,"  said  Tom,  wringing  Mellen's 
slender  hand  in  his  ;  "  if  this  is  a  lover's  quarrel  between 
you  and  Elizabeth,  don't  say  another  word.  Lord  bless 
you  !  I  can  persuade  her  into  anything,  she  knows  me  of 
old.  Besides,  I  am  glad  there  is  something  that  I  can  do 
to  make  you  both  good-natured  just  now,  for  as  like  as  not, 
I  shall  be  asking  a  tremendous  favor  of  you  before  long, 
and  this  will  pave  the  way ;  tell  me  where  your  wife  is,  I'll 
take  care  of  the  rest." 

"  Tom,  I  believe — I  fear  that  she  is  dead." 

The  solemnity  with  which  this  was  spoken,  appalled  Tom. 

"  Dead  ! "  he  repeated,  and  the  ruddy  color  faded  from 
his  face.  "  Dead — you  can't  mean  it." 

"  Listen  patiently  to  me  if  you  can,"  said  Mellen,  sadly. 
"  This  must  be  told,  but  the  effort  is  terrible." 

Tom  folded  his  arms  and  bent  his  now  grave  face  to  listen. 
Then  Mellen  told  him  all ;  the  anguish,  the  deception,  the 
anxiety  which  these  pages  have  recorded  so  imperfectly. 
There  was  but  little  exhibition  of  excitement,  Mellen  told 
these  things  in  a  dull,  dreary  voice  that  bespoke  utter  hope 
lessness.  He  was  so  lost  in  his  own  misery  that  the  signs 
of  anguish  in  Tom's  face  never  disturbed  his  narrative. 

When  he  had  done  Tom  Fuller  arose,  and  stood  before 
him,  white  as  death,  but  with  a  noble  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Mellen,  give  me  your  hand,  for  you  and  I  are  just  the 


SEARCHING.  465 

two  most  wretched  dogs  in  America  at  this  minute.  I 
loved  her,  Mellen,  0  God  help  me  !  I  love  her  as  you  did 
the  other  one.  Great  heavens,  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Mellen  j  "  I  did  not  think  another 
pang  could  be  added,  and  my  soul  recoils  from  this.  Could 
she  prove  so  base  to  you  also  ?  " 

t{  Base  ;  look  here,  Mellen,  yon  don't  take  this  in  the  true 
light.  It  was  all  my  fault.  I  forced  myself  upon  her;  I 


The  poor  fellow  broke  down,  a  convulsion  of  grief  swept 
his  face,  and  he  walked  away. 

Directly  he  came  back,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  Come,  now  let  us  search  for  Elizabeth/'  he  said. 

"  It  is  useless  ;  I  have  searched." 

"  But  come  with  me  —  it  was  not  in  town  you  should  have 
looked  ;  Elizabeth  would  not  go  there." 

Mellen  arose  and  walked  towards  the  bay.  In  passing  a 
clump  of  rosebushes  Tom  stopped  to  extricate  a  fragment 
of  silk  from  the  thorns. 

"  What  dress  did  she  wear  that  night  ?  "  he  inquired, 
examining  the  shred  in  his  hand. 

"I  remember  well,  it  was  purple,"  answered  Mellen, 
without  lifting  his  weary  eyes  from  the  ground. 

"  Come  this  way,  for  she  has  been  here,"  said  Tom. 
This  path  leads  to  the  fishpond." 

They  walked  on,  Tom  searching  vigilantly  all  the  thickets 
he  passed,  and  Mellen  looking  around  him  in  terror  lest  the 
dead  body  of  his  wife  should  appear  and  crush  his  last  hope 
for  ever. 

"  She  has  been  this  way,"  said  Tom,  when  they  reached 
the  pond.  "See,  that  tuft  of  cat-tails  has  been  broken. 
No,  no,  don't  be  afraid  to  look  ;  see  yonder  where  the 
bushes  are  swept  down  ;  she  went  away  towards  the  shore." 

Mellen  groaned  aloud.  This  was  his  most  terrible  fear. 
They  walked  on,  taking  a  path  that  curved  round  the  bay, 
29 


466  IN    BENSON'S    TAVERN. 

and  leaving  the  shore  tavern  on  the  right,  went  down  to 
the  beach.  It  was  now  sunset,  and  a  golden  glow  lay  upon 
the  waters  till  they  broke  along  the  beach  like  great  waves 
of  pearls  and  opals  drifting  over  the  Sound  together,  and 
melting  in  the  sand.  Near  the  two  men  was  a  winrow  of 
black  seaweed,  on  which  great  drops  of  spray  were  quiver 
ing.  Something  in  the  appearance  of  this  dark  mass 
arrested  Tom's  attention.  He  went  up  to  the  pile  of  weeds 
and  kicked  them  apart ;  a  dark  sodden  substance,  compact 
and  heavy,  lay  underneath.  He  took  it  in  his  hands,  gave 
the  weeds  that  clung  to  it  a  shake,  and  held  it  up.  Mellen 
came  forward,  his  white  lips  parted,  his  'breath  rising  with 
pain.  He  reached  forth  his  hand,  but  uttered  no  word. 

It  was  the  ample  shawl  that  Elizabeth   had  worn  that 
night. 


CHAPTER  LXXVIIL 


SHE  was  dead !  That  fiendish  man  had  spoken  the 
truth — Mellen  believed  it  now.  Elizabeth  was  dead,  and 
he  had  killed  her — that  noble,  grand  woman,  so  resolute  in 
her  sacrifice,  so  determined  to  save  that  girl,  to  preserve 
him  from  the  hardest  shock  to  his  honor  and  pride,  had 
offered  herself  up  to  death,  body  and  soul. 

Those  few  moments  of  conviction  changed  him  more  than 
many  years  would  have  done.  The  pride  and  anger  which 
had  helped  to  aid  him  in  his  first  grief  were  gone  now — he 
was  the  wronger — searching  for  the  wife  he  had  driven  forth 
to  perish.  And  she  was  dead  ! 

No  clue — no  hope  ! 

He  did  not  touch  the  shawl,  but  leaving  Tom  Fuller,  went 
back  and  sat  down  in  Elsie's  room,  with  the  sick  girl's  de- 


467 

lirious  cries  smiting  his  ear,  and  terrible  images  rising  before 
his  eyes  of  Elizabeth — dying,  dead — drowned  and  dashed 
upon  some  lonely  beach,  with  her  cold,  open  eyes  staring 
blankly  in  his  face. 

Tom  dropped  the  shawl  in  a  wet  mass  at  his  feet,  and 
walked  away  without  attempting  to  detain  or  comfort  the 
stricken  husband.  He  too  believed  Elizabeth  dead,  and  had 
no  heart  to  offer  consolation.  Indeed,  the  pang  of  sorrow 
that  this  conviction  brought  took  away  his  own  strength. 

He  walked  on,  over  the  wet  sands  of  the  beach,  ready  to 
cry  out  with  the  anguish  of  this  sudden  bereavement,  when 
the  figure  of  old  Caleb  Benson  cast  its  long  shadow  on  the 
shore. 

"  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Fuller,  and  alone  ?  I'm  mighty  pleased 
to  find  any  one  from  the  Cove — most  of  all  you." 

"  Do  you  want  me  for  anything  particular  ?  "  asked  Tom 
in  a  husky  voice  ;  "  if  not  I — I'm  engaged  just  now." 

"  Well,  yes  ;  I  must  tell  you,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I've 
bin  to  your  house  twice — once  in  the  night — I  thought 
niebby  I'd  see  the  young  gal." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  Tom,  in  the  impotence  of  his 
grief. 

"  She  made  me  promise  not  to  tell — but  whatever's  wrong, 
you're  her  cousin,  and  can't  be  hard  on  her — she's  dreadful 
sick." 

Tom  caught  his  arm. 

"  My  cousin  —  are  you  talking  of  my  cousin,  Mrs. 
Mellen  ?  " 

"  Why  yes,  sure  enough,  though  she  never  will  forgive  me 
for  telling  you." 

"  But  where  is  she  ?  Where  is  she  ? "  shouted  Tom. 
"  How  did  you  find  her  ?  Who  got  her  out  of  the  water  ? 
Great  heavens,  old  man,  can't  you  speak  ?  " 

"  Well,  this  is  the  way  it  was,"  answered  the  old  man. 
"  T'other  night,  or  morning,  for  it  was  nigh  on  to  daylight, 


468  IN    BENSON'S    TAVERN. 

I  was  eating  breakfast  with  the  young  uns,  when  one  on 'em 
got  scared  by  a  face  at  the  winder  looking  in  on  us  as  we 
eat.  I  jist  got  one  sight  of  the  face,  and  kinder  seemed  to 
know  it.  So  up  I  jumps,  and  on  with  my  great  coat,  and 
out  into  the  fog.  Something  gray  went  on  afore  me,  and  I 
follered,  for  sometimes  it  looked  like  a  woman,  and  some 
times  not.  Down  it  went,  making  a  bee-line  for  the  beach, 
and  I  arter  it  full  split,  for  it  travelled  fast,  I  can  tell  you. 
The  night  had  been  kinder  rough,  and  the  waves  dashed  up 
high,  considering  that  the  storm  wasn't  nothing  much  to 
speak  on.  But  the  woman,  for  I  could  see  that  it  was  a 
woman  now,  went  right  straight  on,  as  if  she'd  made  up  her 
mind  to  pitch  head  forred  into  the  sea  and  drown  herself 
the  first  thing. 

"  This  riled  me  up,  and  I  went  on  arter  her  like  a  tornado, 
now  I  tell  you.  But  jist  as  I  was  reaching  out  both  hands 
to  drag  her  back  from  a  wave  that  came  roaring  along,  it 
broke,  and  the  undertow  sucked  her  in  right  afore  my  face. 

Now  some  folks  might  a  pitched  in  arter  her,  but  I  knew 
better'n  that.  We  should  both  on  us  have  gone  to  kingdom 
come  and  no  mistake  if  I  had.  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  I  planted 
myself  firm  and  waited.  Sure  enough  the  second  wave 
arter  that  came  tearing  along,  tossing  the  poor  cretur  up 
and  down  like  a  wisp  of  seaweed,  and  pitched  her  ashore 
right  in  my  tracks. 

In  course  the  next  wave  would  have  dragged  her  out  to 
sea  agin,  but  I  got  hold  of  her  shawl  and  tried  to  haul  her 
back,  but  the  tarnal  thing  gave  way,  and  I  had  just  time 
to  drop  it  and  make  a  grab  at  her  clothes,  when  it  came 
crashing  over  us  agin.  But  I  held  on,  and  planted  myself 
firm,  so  it  only  dragged  us  both  a  foot  or  two  and  went 
roaring  off.  Then  I  got  a  fair  hold  of  the  lady  and  drag 
ged  her  up  the  beach  out  of  harm's  way.  But  I  really 
thought  that  she  was  dead  ;  the  daylight  broke  while  she 
lay  on  the  sand,  and  then  I  saw  who  it  was,  and  the  sight 


IN    BENSON'S    TAVERN.  469 

of  her  cold  face  drove  me  wild.  I  took  her  up  in  my  arms 
and  carried  her  home.  There  was  a  good  fire  burning,  and 
my  darter  is  used  to  taking  care  of  sich  cases.  So  she 
wrapped  her  in  hot  blankets,  and  worked  over  her  till  the 
life  came  back." 

"  And  she's  alive — doing  well/'  cried  Tom,  "  at  your 
house;  old  Benson,  j^ou're  —  a  —  a — trump.  If  I  hadn't 
given  away  every  gold  piece  I  had  in  rny  pocket,  you  should 
have  a  double  handful — by  Jove,  you  should !  But  never 
mind,  just  come  along,  I  must  have  one  splendid  hug,  and 
then  for  the  Cove.  No,  no,  that  won't  be  fair  after  all," 
thought  the  generous  fellow,  "  Grant  must  have  the  first 
kiss,  he  must  tell  her " 

The  thought  of  what  must  be  told  her  went  through  the 
poor  fellow's  brain  like  an  arrow  of  fire.  But  he  dashed 
into  the  path  which  led  to  Piney  Cove,  calling  back  to 
Benson,  "  Don't  tell  her  anything !  "  and  strode  away. 

Breathless,  eager,  forgetful  of  his  own  great  sorrow,  Tom 
cleared  the  distance  between  the  shore  and  Piuey  Cove 
with  enormous  strides.  He  crossed  the  lawn  almost  at  a 
run,  leaped  up  the  steps  two  at  a  time,  and  found  Mellen 
lying  upon  a  sofa  in  the  balcony,  with  his  face  to  the  wall. 

"  Get  up,  old  fellow,  get  up  and  shake  yourself,"  he  cried, 
seizing  upon  Mellen  and  turning  him  over  as  if  he  had 
been  a  Newfoundland  dog  in  the  wrong  place;  "I've 
found  her — by  Jove,  I  have  ! — she's  at  old  Benson's.  Isn't 
he  a  brick  ?  She's  well — no,  she  isn't  quite  that  according 
to  the  latest  accounts,  but  by  all  that's  sacred,  your  wife  is 
alive  ! " 

Mellen  started  to  his  feet,  bewildered,  wild. 

"  Tom  Fuller,  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  man  who  tells  lies  for  fun  ? "  said 
Tom,  drawing  himself  up. 

"  Have  you  seen  her — is  my  wife  truly  alive  ?  " 

"  Yes — no — no — I  haven't  seen  her — was  in  too  great  a 


470  IN    BENSON'S    TAVEKN. 

hurry  for  that.  But  she's  there  at  Benson's  tavern,  just  as 
sure — as  sure — as  a  gun." 

Mellen  brushed  past  the  kind  fellow  while  he  was  hesitat 
ing  for  a  comparison.  His  saddle  horse  stood  at  the  door — 
for  he  had  been  too  excited  for  any  orders  regarding  it. 
He  sprang  upon  its  back  and  dashed  across  the  lawn, 
through  the  grove  and  out  of  sight,  quickly  as  a  fast  horse 
could  clear  the  ground.  He  drew  up  in  front  of  old  Ben- 
sou's  house,  leaped  off  and  rushed  in. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  cried,  to  the  frightened  woman  who 
met  him.  "  My  wife — where  is  she  ?  " 

A  cry  from  the  upper  room  answered  his  words ;  he 
dashed  into  the  apartment.  There,  on  the  humble  bed,  lay 
Elizabeth,  pale  and  changed,  but  alive  ! 

She  was  cowering  back  in  deadly  terror  — putting  out 
her  hands  in  wild  appeal. 

"  I'm  going  away,"  she  moaned  ;  "  don't  kill  me  !  I  can 
start  now— I'll  go— I'll  go ! " 

He  fell  on  his  knees  by  the  bed,  he  was  telling  the  truth 
in  wild,  broken  words. 

"  Only  forgive  me,  Elizabeth ;  only  forgive  me  ;  my  wife, 
my  darling,  can  you  forgive  me  ?  You  would  if  my  heart 
lay  in  your  hands.  Oh,  Elizabeth,  speak  to  me  ! " 

She  could  not  comprehend  what  he  was  saying  at  the 
moment;  when  she  did  understand,  her  first  thought  was 
of  the  girl — his  sister. 

"  Elsie  !  Elsie  !  " 

"  She  is  ill — dying  perhaps.  Oh,  my  wife  !  my  wife ! 
Try  to  speak — say  that  you  forgive  me.'7 

She  was  too  greatly  agitated  for  words  then,  but  she  put 
out  her  hands  with  a  gesture  he  understood.  He  lifted  her 
in  his  arms  and  folded  her  close  to  his  heart.  She  lay  in 
their  passionate  clasp  with  a  long  sigh  of  content. 

"  God  is  very  good,"  she  whispered  j  "  oh,  my  beloved, 
let  us  thank  Him." 


RECONCILIATIONS.  471 

There,  in  that  lowly  room,  Grantley  Mellen  held  his  wife 
to  his  bosom  and  the  last  fire  of  his  old  wrong  impetuous 
nature;  went  out  forever  in  thankfulness  and  tears. 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

RECONCILIATIONS. 

ELIZABETH  MELLEN  was  home  again — home  under  her 
husband's  roof,  for  ever  at  home  in  his  heart.  She  sat  iu 
her  dressing-room.  The  autumnal  sunshine  came  through 
its  windows,  with  a  rich,  golden  warmth.  A  hickory  wood 
fire  filled  the  room  with  additional  cheerfulness,  which  was 
scarcely  needed,  for  that  awful  chill  had  left  her  heart  for 
eyer.  A  few  days  of  supreme  happiness  had  given  back 
the  peachlike  bloom  to  her  cheek  and  the  splendor  to  her 
eyes.  Full  of  contentment,  all  the  generous  impulses  of 
her  character  rose  and  swelled  in  her  bosom,  till  she  longed 
to  share  her  heaven  with  anything  that  was  cast  down  or 
unhappy. 

The  door  between  her  room  and  Elsie's  boudoir  was  open, 
and  through  it  she  could  hear  a  soft,  pleading  voice  amid  a 
struggle  of  sobs  and  tears.  Prompted  by  tender  sympathy, 
Elizabeth  half-rose  from  her  easy-chair,  but  fell  back  again, 
murmuring : 

"  No,  no,  she  will  best  find  her  way  to  his  heart  alone. 
God  help  her  to  be  frank  and  truthful." 

Still  she  listened,  and  her  beautiful  face  grew  anxious, 
for  the  sternness  of  her  husband's  voice,  in  answer  to  those 
feeble  plaints,  gave  little  hopes  of  conciliation.  Directly 
Mellen  came  through  the  boudoir  and  sat  down  on  a  couch 
near  his  wife,  shading  his  face  with  one  hand,  not  wishing 
her  to  see  how  much  he  was  disturbed.  Elizabeth  arose, 
bent  over  him,  and  softly  removed  the  hand  from  his  eyes. 


472  RECONCILIATIONS. 

"  For  my  sake,  Grantley,"  she  said,  "  for  my  sake." 

Generous  tears  filled  her  eyes,  pleading  tenderness  spoke 
in  her  voice.  Her  lips,  tremulous  with  feeling,  touched  his 
forehead. 

"  For  my  sake,  Grantley." 

Mellen  lifted  his  eyes  to  hers — a  mist,  such  as  springs 
from  the  unshed  tears  of  a  strong  man,  softened  them. 
She  fell  upon  her  knees  by  his  side,  laid  her  head  upon  his 
bosom  with  soft  murmurs  of  entreaty  which  no  living 
man  could  have  resisted. 

Mellen  folded  her  close,  and  touched  his  lips  to  her  fore 
head  with  tender  reverence. 

"  For  your  sake,  my  beloved ;  what  is  there  that  I  would 
not  do  for  your  sake  ?  " 

"  And  this  forgiveness  is  perfect,"  she  questioned. 

"  Her  fault  from  this  hour  is  forgotten,  sweet  wife." 

"  It  was  terrible  —  more  terrible  than  you  dream  of. 
When  I  tell  you  that  she  had  engaged  herself  secretly  to 
Thomas  Fuller,  even  your  mercy  may  be  qualified." 

Elizabeth  withdrew  from  her  husband's  arms  and  bowed 
her  lovely  face  for  a  moment  in  sad  tboughtfulness.  Then 
she  looked  up,  smiling  faintly. 

"  Elsie  is  so  thoughtless — she  does  not  mean  the  wrong 
she  does  poor  Tom — still  we  must  not  be  unmerciful,  so 
once  more  let  us  forgive  her  wholly — without  reservation." 

A  knock  at  the  door  disturbed  them.  It  was  Victoria, 
who  came  to  announce  Mr.  Fuller,  who  was  close  behind 
her. 

"Elizabeth,  I've  come  back.  It  was  no  use  trying  to 
stay  in  that  confounded  city.  To  save  my  life  I  couldn't  do 
it,"  he  said,  pushing  by  the  pretty  mulatto  and  closing  the 
door  upon  her.  "  Can  I  see  her  now — only  for  once,  you 
know  ?  " 

Elizabeth  blushed  crimson. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  you  don't  know  your " 


TOM      ACCEPTS      THE      SITUATION.          473 

"  Yes,  I  do  know." 

"  And  still  wish  tx)  see  her  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  of  course  I  do  ;  because  one — infernal  villain 
— excuse  me,  I  won't  talk.  Where  is  she  ?  " 

Elizabeth,  a  little  shocked  and  quite  taken  by  surprise, 
glanced  towards  the  blue  boudoir.  In  Tom  strode  and  shut 
the  door  resolutely  after  him. 


CHAPTER  LXXX. 

TOM   ACCEPTS    THE    SITUATION. 

LYING  upon  a  couch,  over  which  that  pale  marble  statue 
was  bending  with  its  cold  lilies  in  mocking  purity,  lay  a 
pale  little  creature,  covered  with  a  pink  eider-down  quilt, 
which  but  half  concealed  a  morning  dress  of  faint  azure  ; 
quantities  of  delicate  Valenciennes  lace  fluttered,  like  snow- 
flakes,  around  her  wrists  and  bosom,  and  formed  the  princi 
pal  material  of  a  dainty  little  cap,  under  which  her  golden 
tresses  were  gathered.  She  looked  like  a  girl  of  twelve 
pretending  womanhood. 

When  Tom  came  in  she  uttered  a  sudden  cry,  flung  up 
her  hands  and  dropped  them  in  a  loose  clasp  over  her  face,, 
which  flushed  under  them  like  a  rose. 

Tom  walked  straight  to  the  couch,  drew  one  of  the 
fragile  gilded  chairs  close  to  it,  and  sat  down. 

"  Don't  —  don't  —  go  away.  It's  cruel.  I  shall  faint 
with  shame,"  she  cried,  trembling  all  over. 

"  Not  till  you  have  answered  me  a  few  questions,"  said 
Tom,  firmly.  "  Questions  that  I  have  a  right  to  ask  and 
you  must  answer." 

Elsie  drew  the  little  hands  slowly  from  her  face  and 
looked  at  him.  The  blue  eyes — grown  larger  from  illness 


474         TOM      ACCEPTS      THE      SITUATION. 

— opened  wide,  her  lips  parted.  That  was  not  the  lover 
she  had  trifled  with  and  domineered  over.  She  was  afraid 
of  him  and  shrunk  away  close  to  the  wall. 

"  Elsie,  one  word,"  said  Tom,  pressing  a  hand  firmly  on 
each  knee  and  bending  towards  her. 

Her  lips  parted  wider,  and  she  watched  him  with  the 
glance  of  a  frightened  bird  when  a  cat  looks  in  at  the  door 
of  its  cage. 

"  You  have  come  to  torment  me,"  she  faltered. 
"  Torment  you !     I !     It  isn't  in  me  to  do  that.     Tor 
ment  !     I  do  not  know  what  it  is." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  me  then  ?  " 
"  What   do    I    want,    Elsie,    dear  ?     What  do  I  want  ? 
Nothing  but  God's  truth,  and  that  I  will  have  !  " 

Elsie's  eyes  grew  larger,  and  the  flush  of  shame  left  her 
face. 

"  I  can't — I  can't  tell  you  the  truth,  Tom  Fuller,  now. 
Elizabeth  can  say  enough  to  make  you  ready  to  kill  me,  but 
I  would  rather  die  than  talk  of  it." 

"  1  know  all  that  Elizabeth  can  tell  me,"  said  Tom,  reso 
lutely. 

"  What  did  you  come  for,  then  ?  " 

"  To  ask  this  one  question  :     Did  you  love  that  man  ?  " 
A  shiver  of  disgust  ran  through  her  and  broke  out  in  her 
voice  : 

"  Love  him  !  No  !  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  I  did  ;  but 
after  I  saw  what  he  was  and  how  he  lived,  it  was  dreadful, 
I  hated  him  so." 

"  But  how  came  you  married  to  him  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know  ;  I  never  could  tell.  It  was  when  we 
went  on  that  picnic.  He  asked  me  to  walk  with  him.  It 
was  good  fun  to  set  you  all  wondering,  and  I  went.  He 
took  me  down  the  hill  and  towards  the  beach,  close  by  the 
tavern.  We  had  been  flirting  for  weeks  then  in  New  York 
and  here,  for  he  always  met  me  when  I  went  out  to  walk  or 


TOM      ACCEPTS     THE      SITUATION.          475 

ride,  or  anything  ;  but  I  never  thought  of  marrying  him 
in  earnest,  upon  rny  sacred  word.  Well,  that  day,  just  as 
we  came  to  the  tavern,  he  said,  '  Let  us  stop  a  moment  and 
get  married ;  there  is  a  clergyman  in  here.' 

"  I  did'nt  believe  him,  and  said  so.  '  Come  in  and  see  for 
yourself/  was  his  answer.  I  went  in  laughing.  A  gentle 
man  sat  in  one  of  the  rooms,  and  Mr.  North's  mulatto  ser 
vant,  who  was  sauntering  about  the  door  when  we  came  up, 
followed  us  in.  I  don't  know  what  possessed  me.  Perhaps 
for  the  minute  I  loved  him  ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  must 
stand  up  when  the  strange  man  rose.  He  only  said  a  few 
words,  and  before  I  really  believed  it  was  a  true  ceremony 
the  man  said  I  was  Mr.  North's  wife,  and  wrote  out  a 
paper,  which  I  dropped,  thinking  that  I  should  be  really 
married  if  I  took  it,  but  which  Mr.  North  picked  up,  saying 
I  did  not  know  its  value." 

"  The  scoundrel !  The  infamous,  double-dyed  scoun 
drel  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  But  you  didn't  love  him — you  didn't 
love  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Elsie,  shaking  her  head.  "  I  tried  my  best 
to  get  away  from  it  all,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Then  he 
petted  me  so,  and  told  me  how  beautifulty  we  would  live 
somewhere  in  Europe,  and  I  thought  him  so  rich.  But  it 
was  my  money  he  meant  to  use.  He  thought  that  half  of 
uncle's  property  was  mine,  and  when  I  told  him  how  it  was, 
oh,  I  won't  tell  you  how  rude  he  became.  Just  after  he 
told  me  about  that  other  person." 

Elsie  broke  off  here,  and  covered  her  face  with  both  hands 
again.  Tom  saw  the  scarlet  glow  where  it  shot  up  to  her 
temples  and  bathed  her  white  throat,  and  gave  his  hands 
one  hard  grip  in  a  wild  desire  to  strike  something. 

"  There  comes  a  question,"  he  said,  hoarsely  ;  "  did  you 
leave  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  that  very  hour." 

"  And  never  saw  him  again  ?  " 


476         TOM      ACCEPTS      THE      SITUATION. 

"Never  but  once;  and  then  I  ordered  him  out  of  the 
house." 

"  Because  you  hated  him  so?  " 

Tom  seized  both  her  hands  as  he  asked  this  question,  and 
wrung  them  till  she  could  scarcely  keep  from  crying  out 
with  pain. 

"  Oh,  how  I  did  hate  him  !  "  she  exclaimed,  shuddering. 

"  Elsie,"  said  Tom,  "  look  into  my  face,  straight  into  my 
eyes." 

She  obeyed  him,  with  a  look  of  piteous  appeal. 

"  Did  you  ever  love  me  ?  " 

Her  hands  were  locked  together,  she  lifted  them  up  with 
more  of  energy  than  he  had  ever  witnessed  in  her  before. 

"  Did  you  ?  "  repeated  Tom,  and  a  glow  came  into  his 
face. 

"Yes." 

The  word  had  scarcely  left  her  lips  when  Tom  flung  the 
gilded  chair  back  and  fell  on  his  knees,  gathering  her  up  in 
his  arms  with  a  wild  outburst  of  feeling. 

"  Then  I'll  be  d hung  and  choked  to  death  if  anything 

on  God's  beautiful  earth  keeps  me  from  manning  you  ! " 

She  clung  to  him,  she  lifted  her  quivering  lips  to  his. 

"  Say  it  again,  just  once,  darling?  "  cried  Tom,  shaking 
back  his  tawny  locks  with  energy.  "  Is  this  love  down 
right,  honest,  whole-hearted  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  " 

"  God  bless  you,  darling !  And  when  was  it  ?  about 
what  time  did  it  begin  ?  " 

She  answered  him  honestly,  but  with  a  faltering  voice  : 

"  Oh,  Tom,  I'm  afraid  it  wasn't  till  after  you  got  so  rich. 
Don't  think  hard  of  it;  I  do  love  beautiful  things  so  much 
— but  indeed,  indeed  I  love  you  more." 

"  Then  I'm  glad  the  old  covey  left  me  all  his  money.  I 

don't  care  a  d a  red  cent  why  you  love  me,  only  I  must 

be  sure  that  it's  a  fixed  fact.  Now  I'll  go  straight  out  and 
tell  Bessie." 


TOM      ACCEPTS     THE      SITUATION.        477 

Elsie  turned  cold. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  she'll  never  consent  to  it." 

"  Won't  she  !     I'd  just  like  to  know  why  ?  " 

"  And  my  brother,  he  is  so  cold,  so  unforgiving." 

"  Is  he  ?  then  I'll  take  you  away  to  a  warmer  climate. 
But  don't  believe  it ;  he's  proud  as  a  race-horse,  but  you'll 
find  him  a  trump  in  the  end." 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Tom,  I  am  afraid  they  will — " 

"No,  they  wont,"  cried  Tom,  and  away  he  went  into 
Elizabeth's  sitting-room,  with  tears  sparkling  in  his  eyes 
and  a  generous  flush  on  his  face. 

"Mellen,"  he  said,  wringing  Grantley's  hand,  "I  want 
to  be  married  to-morrow,  and  carry  her  away." 

"  Fuller,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  demanded  Mel 
len,  pained  arid  surprised,  while  Elizabeth  stood  up  aghast 
at  this  sudden  outburst. 

"  It  means  just  this,  Mellen,  I  don't  care  a  tin  whistle  for 
what  has  gone  before,  and  I  feel  strong  enough  to  take  care 
of  anything  that  may  come  after.  Your  sister  loves  me, 
and  I  love  her,  that's  enough.  I  am  satisfied,  and — there 
— that's  enough.  The  whole  thing  is  a  family  secret,  and 
who  is  going  to  be  the  wiser.  I  only  hope  they  have  dug 
the  fellow's  grave  deep  enough,  that's  all." 

"  But,  Puller,  have  you  reflected  ?  " 

"  Reflected  !  I've  done  nothing  else  for  a  week,  and  this 
is  just  what  it  has  brought  me  to.  So  give  us  your  hand." 

Elizabeth  came  up  to  Tom,  put  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"That's  the  time  o'  day,"  shouted  Tom.  "  Silence  gives 
consent ;  now  just  give  us  a  good  brotherly  grip  of  the 
hand,  Mellen,  and  it's  all  right." 

Tom  folded  one  arm  around  his  cousin,  and  held  out  the 
other  a  second  time.  Mellen  took  it  in  his,  wrung  it 
warmly,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Just  go  in  and  comfort  her  a  little,  Bessie,  poor  darling, 
she's  afraid  you  won't  consent." 


478         TOM      ACCEPTS      THE      SITUATION. 

"  Generous,  noble  fellow,"  said  Elizabeth,  kissing  him 
with  warmth  ;  "  but  where  will  you  go  ?  what  will  you  do  ? 
It  is  all  so  very  sudden." 

"  Do  !  what  on  earth  can  I  do  but  love  her  like  distraction  ? 
Go !  any  place  where  she  can  find  life  and  fun,  plenty  of 
shopping.  Paris,  isn't  that  a  nice  sort  of  place  for  pretty 
things  ?  I  think  we'll  go  to  Paris  first.  But,  I  forgot, 
llhodes's  daughter,  the  old  maid,  is  waiting  for  you  down 
stairs.  Victoria  would  have  told  you  if  I  hadn't  shut  her 
out." 

Elizabeth  went  down,  leaving  Tom  in  the  only  spot  he 
cared  to  occupy  on  earth.  She  found  Miss  Jemima  in  a 
state  of  wild  commotion,  with  her  riding-dress  buttoned 
awry,  and  one  of  her  gauntlets  torn  half  off  with  hard 
pulling. 

"Did  you  know  it?  had  you  any  suspicion?"  she  de 
manded,  confronting  Elizabeth  like  a  grenadier ;  "  I  could 
think  it  of  your  sister,  but  you — you — " 

"  What  is  it  ?     I  know  nothing,"  answered  Elizabeth. 

"  They  are  married,  absolutely  married  ;  my  par  and  that 
painted  lay  figure  you  introduced  to  him,  that  Mrs.  Harring 
ton." 

"  What,  your  father  married  to  her ! "  cried  Elizabeth  ; 
"  you  surprise  me." 

"  It's  a  solemn  truth,  though  a  disgraceful  truth,  but  she 
shall  never  come  into  the  house  that  shelters  me.  I'll  burn 
it  down  first.  Where's  your  sister  ?  '7 

"  She  is  ill  in  her  room." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say.  But  she's  had  a  hand  in  this,  and  I'll 
pay  her  for  it,  or  my  name  isn't  Jemima  Rhodes.  Tell  her 
so,  with  my  compliments.  Good  morning  !  " 

With  this  abrupt  adieu  the  spinster  took  herself  off,  tug 
ging  away  at  her  gauntlet,  or  what  was  left  of  it,  and  diver 
sifying  the  movement  with  a  vicious  crack  of  her  whip  now 
and  then. 


TOM      ACCEPTS      THE      SITUATION.         479 

Elizabeth  smiled  and  went  upstairs  again.  Thus  the 
great  events  of  the  day  ended. 

In  less  than  a  week  Tom  Fuller  was  quietly  married,  and 
took  his  wife  at  once  on  board  a  steamer  bound  for  Europe. 
She  had  come  forth  from  her  sick  room  greatly  subdued  and 
changed  in  many  respects,  but  able,  from  her  peculiar  char 
acter,  to  put  a  veil  between  her  and  the  past,  which  would 
have  been  impossible  to  a  woman  like  Elizabeth. 

I  am  happy  to  state  that  Dolf 's  treachery  met  with  its 
proper  reward.  Clorinda  succeeded  in  saving  her  money, 
and  she  married  the  parson,  leaving  Dolf  to  his  shame  and 
remorse.  Victoria  gave  him  the  cold  shoulder,  and  made 
herself  so  intimate  with  a  new  male  Adonis,  who  came  to 
the  house  as  domestic,  that  Dolf 's  days  were  full  of  misery 
and  his  nights  made  restless  with  legions  of  nightmares. 

The  house  by  the  sea  shore  stands  up  in  its  old  pictur 
esque  stateliness,  and  within  the  sunshine  never  fails,  and 
the  summer  of  content  is  never  disturbed. 

Old  Benson,  a  very  short  time  after  these  events,  became 
possessed  of  a  fine  tract  of  land  running  back  from  the 
point  where  his  house  stood  ;  how  he  paid  for  it,  and  got  a 
clear  deed,  no  one  could  tell  except  himself  and  Mr.  Mellen. 
It  is  certain  that  both  of  these  men  knew  how  to  keep  a 
secret,  for  to  this  day  it  is  utterly  unknown  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  that  Elizabeth  ever  lay  ill  and  suffering  in  that  good 
man's  house.  The  servants  speak  of  her  visit  to  New  York 
about  that  time,  and  so  this  great  family  mystery  ended. 


THE     END. 


